The Birth Of Ill Omen
by TheLionTree
Summary: A story of a woman who becomes a member of the Dark Brotherhood. Born under a cursed star, Lana Sullivan finally takes control of her life, giving her body and soul over to Sithis, feeling the erotic joy of death all around her. Romantic engagement with Lucien LaChance
1. Chapter 1

This is the first part of a two part story I want to do. This one in Oblivion and the next in Skyrim. This features normal people (not hero's) involved in the Dark Brotherhood plot. Review so I know you're interested.

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><p>Lana Sullivan was born under a dark star, in the month when the leaves started to rot off the trees. It was an ill-omen.<p>

On this night, many years later, Lana's unfortunate time of birth seemed to manifest itself in her every action. A woman in her early twenties, Lana crept slowly across the shop she had grown up tending, the shadows of the night helping cover her crimes. The Khajiit caravan noisily moved outside, causing Lana's heart to race with the need to hurry, least she be abandoned by Do-Jaqas, who had promised to accompany her out of Anvil to Chorrel and beyond.

She stilled her hand on the iron key she was slowly placing inside of the lock to the chest that held her Stepmother's savings. Lana reminded herself that she deserved this. Years of virtual slavery, ignorantly serving the woman who was supposed to protect her, entitled Lana to some of the profits from the shop? Her Stepmother had taken the money from her father's moderate business and made it thrive, sure, but the frequent beatings and belittling language thrust at Lana had left the girl broken and afraid to leave. Afraid until the night the young Imperial named Julius that Lana had been seeing loudly bedded her Stepmother. Lana had laid awake and listened to their lovemaking, forging a deal with herself to leave.

For years now Do-Jaqas had been whispering at her window that it was time to leave. His family's yearly rounds of Cyrodill always brought him back to Anvil in the spring. The night after Julius had slept with her Stepmother, Lana found herself intoxicated by his honey words, and she vowed to them both she would follow him the next year when his caravan returned. Lana feared her Stepmother would suspect her desire to run away and do everything she could to squelch it. Luckily Lana's Stepmother took Lana's continued occupation of the small room at the top of the stairs as proof that she had finally crushed Lana's spirit.

Now was the time to put that behind her. Lana was no longer the 'worthless wretch,' she had long been told she was. Julius' assurances of her beauty and worth, combined with Do-Jaqas yearly attention had given Lana just enough faith to believe she could secure her freedom from this woman. Indeed it was foolish of her adoptive mother to believe she could ever hold sway against a Sullivan for long. Sinister rumors of how the family shop was purchased and fortune was made filtered down to Lana, despite people's best efforts to keep it secret. Fated to be bad by blood or birth, Lana was set to remedy a lifetime of incarceration, and the contents of the box would buffer her from the cruelty of life away from home for some time.

As she slipped a heavy money bag onto her belt, Lana heard a shuffling noise and turned to see the dark haired profile of her Imperial bred Stepmother, standing in the darkness watching her. Dark angry eyes screamed disappointment at Lana as if word were not enough to describe the young woman's behavior.

"So you'll be off then to where exactly?" Her Stepmother chastised. "Nowhere. Not when I call the guards and have you thrown in jail for stealing from me. I'll give you a second chance Lana. Beg my forgiveness and replace the money. I'll only deduct your full wages for the next six months as punishment. You're a pitiful fool to think you can make it on your own."

"I would swear you worship Molag Bal the way you hold me here," Lana whispered.

The look on her Stepmother's face darkened, and Lana turned her head unable to continue to behold the dark focused smile.

"Daedra worship would be nothing compared to what past members of the Sullivan family have been involved in," Lana's Stepmother responded.

The matron then extended her long fingers and closed them over Lana's fist, which was still holding tightly to the money purse on her sash. The older woman then started to pull Lana's hand to her slowly, taking the purse with her, as the strings around Lana's belt gave way. Lana watched their hands moving in unison as if time was warped around it, presenting it retarded of its normal flow.

Her eyes growing wide, Lana realized if her Stepmother got hold of the money, she'd never see it again. Powerlessness was the result of the completion of this gesture. Refusing to accept her continued bondage Lana pulled the knife she had placed in the holster on the back of her belt, and drove the blade forward blindly.

The steel drove itself into the neck of Lana's Stepmother with more force than the young woman would have ever imagined necessary. Skin it seems, was made to resist puncture, the muscle sucked and held the dagger in place. This didn't slow Lana, who was now incensed with fear and bloodlust. Something about the helplessness of the ghoulish woman who had long tortured her filled Lana with an energy that sucked up from the very earth and into her body.

Dashing her arm back, Lana took the knife and sliced vertically against her Stepmother's neck, the blood flying having an instant narcotic effect on Lana. So the young woman picked up the pace of her attack, moaning as each stroke ripped a ribbon of gore along her Stepmothers clothes, onto the walls, onto Lana's body.

Once the woman had fallen, Lana inhaled deeply and enjoyed the sight before her. Her body shaking with passion, Lana breathed in, a fire in her mind and loins making her wish she'd savored the moment more. Why hadn't she done this years ago? It was so easy to set herself free. It was madness that she hadn't before now, and Lana squeezed her thighs to try to control the burning sensation between them.

"I now pray to a blacker God than before," Lana mumbled, and in her head she heard a dry old woman's voice confirm it with a quite 'welcome, my child.'

Cracking her neck Lana noticed the coin purse in her spare hand, somehow she had held on to it the entire time. Then the amount of blood covering her hand alarmed Lana, who dashed into her room to change into one of the outfits she had planned on leaving. She had time to pull the fresh clothes on, fit her belt, and toss her dirty dress into the fire, before she heard the song of the Khajiit named Do-Jaqas letting her know the last of the caravan was approaching the city gate.

She had very little time.

So that the guards would not suspect and hunt her, Lana quickly returned to her room, over turned the bed, drug some of the items around, and made it look like a struggle. She then flipped several items on the counter, and tossed the money box on the floor. Thieves and bandits were uncommon inside of the city, but her Stepmother had no shortage of enemies. The guards wouldn't waste much time on this now.

Lana ran out the door towards the caravan, catching Do-Jaqas' paw in her hand just as he started out of the gate into the countryside. The light of dawn began to glow red on the edges of the sky and the Khajiit mumbled in her ear, "I was beginning to think you wouldn't make it. Tell me, did Lana prove her cleverness and take her inheritance from that old crow?"

In response Lana patted the coin purse on her side and Do-Jaqas spread his fangs into a toothy smile. "I knew the hairless one had cunning," he purred. "I trust you had no problem with the old crow?"

"She tried to peck out my eyes," Lana said, remembering the murder with an erotic shiver, "But I sliced off her head before she could attack me."

Do-Jaqas seemed to consider this for awhile, his ears twitching in alarm, but he quickly patted Lana on the back with his large furry paw in assurance. They walked the day side by side and said little of it. The whole walk Lana obsessed over the passion with which she had emancipated herself, trying to dismiss the burning need the death had filled inside her.

That night the Khajiit caravan made camp, and Lana came to realize she had not packed a bedroll or tent. Do-Jaqas laughed at her predicament. After eating the stew provided by the caravan as payment for guard duty, Do-Jaqas offered to alleviate Lana's plight with the use of his own tent.

"I think you'll find it keeps you warm," The russet furred feline enticed.

Lana stood meekly and joined him inside. At first she was shy to his affection, but she reminded herself of his help, and figured her body would be little price in repayment for his friendship. Plus she had already wasted its 'purity' on the disloyal Julius, so sex would not hurt or attract predictors with the blood. It wasn't that she didn't want to sleep with Do-Jaqas, the thought had crossed her mind many of the nights that she spoke to him from the window on the bottom floor of the shop, his muscles causing his fur to ruffle as he talked. Instead she simply regretted that she wasn't in love with him and that whatever they had would probably end when she got to Chorrol and looked for work.

The soft pats of his muscular paws kneaded against her flesh, dragging the tips of his claws across her skin, threatening to tear her open like she'd torn open her Stepmother. The thought made her body clinch then shake. The memory of killing that awful woman made her yield to her lovers touch with a ferocity that surprised the both of them. She rebuked herself for it only briefly, but forgot the guilt as soon as she felt the soft hairs of his body gliding across her skin.

She reached up and marveled at the feeling of his anatomy under the fine fuzz. Unable to control himself Do-Jaqas placed her hand on his erection, both as a promise and a warning. She gasped as she felt the hard ridges around the head of it and down the shaft. Lana knew that Khajiit anatomy was likely to be foreign to hers; she had never, for example, heard of a half Khajiit half human. On this night she discovered that luckly they seemed to share the same basic parts of reproduction. Still the roughness of his penis made Lana worry, and she looked up at him biting her lip, hoping for a reassurance.

"I will have to be gentler with you than our women," he spoke, purring as she gave him a firm tug. "If you were Khajiit I would climb onto your back, bite your neck, and hold on with my claws while I fucked you hard. I'm afraid if I did that to you little human girl, you might not recover."

She nodded, and pulled the head closer to her wet folds. He pressed the pads of his paws against his stomach, and squeezed them in towards the center in a fluid massaging motion that relaxed Lana some. She grimaced as she placed his raggedness inside of her, the harder parts grating at the flesh like she imagined it was meant to do. He then started to rock himself in a firm rhythm, his claws occasionally poking into her flesh but not enough to draw blood. He was obviously forcing himself not to lose control.

She reached up and ran her fingers through the fur on his sides, then sunk her fingernails into his skin. The Khajiit hissed, but not in a dangerous way and then leaned forward, taking her harder. She was glad she had enough lubrication to make the friction of his lovemaking bearable, and she grasped at him again with her fingernails. This time Do-Jaqas responded by biting her on the shoulder, drawing blood from four fang prints in her flesh. Lana called out in pain, but found that this sensation only coaxed her own orgasm from her body, and in turn forced Do-Jaqas to release himself across her belly and breasts.

The Khajiit then, grabbed a piece of cloth from the side of the tent and tossed it to her.

"So odd making love to someone with only two nipples," Do-Jaqas kidded and Lana laughed. They made short work of cleaning themselves then fell asleep.

In the morning Lana examined the bite marks, and realized they were just deep enough to scar but not cause any real damage. She wasn't bothered by it, but wished Do-Jaqas had restrained himself more. They continued on the road to Chorrol from Anvil, each night spent in passion much like the first night, only from that point on Do-Jaqas did not bite Lana at climax.

A few days from the city gates of Chorrol and Do-Jaqas had started to spend the night outside of the tent. He didn't say it but Lana could tell he was tired of holding himself back so he wouldn't cause her harm. Some nights she'd watch him talk to the females of his own species when he thought she wouldn't notice. These women were sometimes submissive, but always the equal of the men. She could imagine they were violent lovers and she wished she could give Do-Jaqas the satisfaction any of the Khajiit women in the caravan might provide. Still, at least this part of the adventure had brought her pleasure, and the addition of a nice steel sword and buckler from one of the traders Do-Jaqas knew well.

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><p>Chorrol was a pretty enough town, but lacked the white limestone sunniness of Anvil. Lana made her exit from the Khajiit caravan with a warm hug for Do-Jaqas and polite handshakes with the traders she had become friendly with. They all seemed to part ways with a knowing smile that almost embarrassed Lana, but she ignored it, figuring it would be at least a year until she saw these people again. You forget a lot in a year.<p>

Lana made her way down the cobble stone streets to an Inn called The Grey Mare a dilapidated structure of old wood. Inside she made arrangements for a room and inquired about work with the owner who pointed her in several helpful directions. She thanked him, appreciative that he was so helpful to the working class people who stayed inside his walls, and made her way to her room.

As Lana settled into bed, she felt a prickly chill to the air. She sat up for a moment, almost afraid the shadows were watching her. Perhaps it was the first night alone since the event that had changed her life, but something about the Inn seemed off to Lana. Bringing the blanket up to her chin, the girl wondered if she should cry for the innocence she had lost the night she slaughtered her Stepmother. She looked up at the wood beams that sagged in the ceiling and wondered if Akatosh or any of the Nine Divines would ever accept her into their temple again if she didn't repent. Still she felt no remorse, and thinking about it caused Lana to fight back the tension caused by the murder that she had believed to have ebbed that first night with Do-Jaqas.

When sleep came to her it was restful, until she heard a soft creek on the boards alerting her that she was not alone. Darting up in bed Lana grabbed the dagger from the nightstand, only to find the empty hilt. So instead of pointing the knife at his gut she crouched on the floor ready to slap the stranger with the leather case if need be. His presence reanimated the feelings she had hoped to burry and she found herself piqued with excitement at the chance for another kill.

The man's first response was a deep chuckle. His baritone ringing in her ears, not with mockery, but a kind of morose pleasure.

"You sleep rather peacefully…for a murderer," the man gloated as he stood over her, betraying no fear that she would lash out at him with her empty holster. His black robes shifted and he made a graceful gesture towards Lana, who was now wide eyed with fear that he would betray her secret to the authorities.

"Oh don't worry my child," the man assured her, "I do not mean these words as threat or insult. Rather I take pleasure in one so enticed by the act of taking a life and the Night Mother has taken notice also. She is pleased. Your lack of conscious for your actions would serve my organization well, that is if you are interested in what I have to propose."

In awe of the man's words, but still fruitlessly clutching her empty knife holder, Lana straightened herself to face the cloaked man who stood across from her in the room. He was a little taller than she was, so she craned her neck to look more imposing. To show her lack of fear Lana stood, uncaring if the man saw her body through her flimsy nightgown. Something about his words smoldered inside of her, forcing her to listen. The reaction to his voice was the same as the way she felt after had murdered.

The stranger's lips twitched at this, the emotion in his own pair of brown eyes betraying a sympathetic understanding of her current mood. He almost seemed to match her intensity, and the room seemed to heat up with their combined essence.

Forcing himself to lean away from Lana the stranger's grin parted to ooze out the words, "You silence is the symphony of death itself, composed by Sithis my dread lord. The Irony is not lost on me that I come to you now as Speaker for the Dark Brotherhood, breaking the silence I so enjoy. My name is Lucien LaChance and my voice is the will of the Night Mother.

She has taken notice of you my child. She observed you when you killed without remorse or pity. She delighted in the pleasure the blade brought to your soul. She has beckoned that I make you an offering…an opportunity if you will. A chance to join our unusual family."

Still bewitched by the man's voice, something strange and sacred calling to her from his offer, Lana relaxed herself and leaned against the wall. She extended her hand in a gesture to continue, and LaChance once again smiled at her with twisted approval.

"There is a man named Rufio at the Inn of Ill Omen, on the Green Road north of Bravil," he continued. "Kill him, and your initiation into the Dark Brotherhood will be complete. As a token of our interest we offer you this virgin blade, it thirsts for his blood."

The dark cloak parted, and Lucien LaChance extended his hand to reveal the black handle of a long dagger with a wicked curve at the tip. Lana reached forward slowly, her fingers trailing along his glove as she shifted the dagger hilt into her palm, and slowly drug the blade along Lucien's arm, not cutting him, and not daring to take her eyes off of his. They were close now; Lana and Lucien, the breath from his nose escaping onto her face, causing her body to reminding her of its erupting want. She seemed to feel this sentiment once again mirrored in Lucien, but he retained too much control to betray it outwardly.

Pressing the blade into her scabbard, Lana closed her eyes for a second and exhaled a long, heavy breath, and then opened her eyes again to see Lucien still there, watching her. She had half expected him to melt into the shadows and be gone by now, but here he was.

Lucien took the opportunity to speak once again. "Go with the morning, and when the deed is done I will appear before you again once you sleep in a place I deem safe. When I return to you this next time I will welcome you with the love of our family."

"Love so happily won," Lana said with a weary smile.

"Kill well my dear," Lucien said, and stepped backwards onto the window sill and disappeared into the shadows on the street below.

Lana walked to the window and looked out into the night, hoping for one last glance at the strong assassin who had beckoned to her on this night. Finding nothing, she closed the sill, pressed the bar that kept it shut and returned to bed. She dreamed that night of the road ahead, of the murder of poor Rufio, and admittance into a family that would not strangle her with tyranny.


	2. Chapter 2

_I'm sorry this update has been so slow...I've been stupid sick..and trying to write when I'm stupid sick...Which is usually a bad idea because I tend to make some really poor and nonsense decisions. I didn't want to let my few readers down though...so here is an update. I wanted this chapter to have Lucien meeting up with her again, but sorry guys...I need to just curl up in a ball with my theraflu and stop trying to write..or Lucien's going to end up juggling cats and singing songs and that's cannon Cicero not Lucien._

_Anyways comment if you enjoy. Comment if you hate, Comment either way. I will even take "meh" as a legit comment. I consider it a shot in the arm to keep going, because someone's reading it._

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><p>Using her finances meagerly Lana had booked passage for Bravil on a rickety cart. Seated around here were several other dirt covered presents, nodding their heads in time with the wheels encounter of rocks. No one said much, and the quite pleased Lana, who had been given a new appreciation for silence. Unfortunately the man sitting next to her couldn't seem to find comfort with the lack of chatter and kept trying to strike up a conversation with anyone who would listen.<p>

"I can't tell if you're from Hammerfell or High Rock," the man said to Lana with a smile. "Wherever you're from, you're unusually pretty."

Narrowing her eyes and studying the man like had just betrayed himself as mad, Lana said nothing for several seconds. She muttered thanks so she wouldn't seem peculiar.

"You're tanned, like you're from Hammerfell," The man continued, "You have a broad nose like you're from Hammerfell, but you have a russet tone to your hair no one from Hammerfell would ever have. It's curious to me."

Exchanging awkward glances with an older woman sitting next to her, Lana just chuckled and ignored the stranger. Such words seemed foreign to a girl raised alone by her Stepmother. Not that she didn't want to hear she was pretty, but the man was talking about her more like she was a statue than a person. Plus she had a mission to focus on.

"I think what's best about you are the eyes," the blond man interrupted again. "They are a light honey brown, like the best mead from my home of Skyrim."

"Nords," an old Imperial woman in the back of the cart snorted, causing a funny look from the flirtatious man.

"My name is Jon," The man told Lana, as if he was starting the beginning of a long story. "I find employment with my flute and fiddle. I'm a bard. I decided to travel the lands beyond my home in order to gain experience which to sing about. I know, I should sing you a song about a woman with mead colored eyes."

Before Lana could protest the bard burst into a pleasant tune about the beauty of glacial sunsets, and the pleasure of a warm woman at your side. Lana responded by tucking her hair behind her ear and trying to pretend she didn't hear what Jon was singing about.

Sadly Jon would not allow himself to go unnoticed. He continued his one sided prattle all the way to the camp sight, occasionally sharing songs, and trying to get the others to join in. The older women on the cart were quickly won over by his charisma, but he kept coming back to Lana to flirt. She tried not to smile or seem friendly towards him, wanting to blend in with the shadows as much as possible. She hoped the Dark Brotherhood paid well, because being a young female on public transportation attracted way to much attention.

At the campfire the Bard continued to direct love songs towards Lana, who finally just slunk down into her bedroll and pretended to be asleep. She prayed Jon would get the hint. Unfortunately the tall blond man proved too dense as he slapped his bedroll down next to hers, his head resting on his arms, and his eyes staring up at the stars like a little boy who was in love with the world.

"You really are beautiful you know," Jon said. "I didn't catch your name by the way. It's been bothering me all day. I need a name so I can write a song about the beautiful cinnamon kissed girl from Hammerfell."

"Anvil," Lanna corrected him.

"Anvil is a terrible name for a pretty girl," Jon responded halfheartedly.

"I'm not from Hammerfell," Lana sighed, "I'm from Anvil. I'm mostly Redguard and Imperial, but rumor has it there is also a little Breton in there somewhere. I'm all human, but I guess my ancestors weren't' picky about what kind of human."

"So your name is?" Jon asked, unwilling to let that go.

"Maura," Lana lied.

"Maura from Anvil, not Anvil from Maura, with mead colored eyes and cinnamon colored thighs," Jon hummed to himself. "See, I already have the first verse."

"Please," Lana complained as she turned so that her back was facing Jon.

The Bard did something foolish, and reached over to run his finger along Lana's arm. She felt surprised at the touch, but that quickly gave way to outrage that he would be so forward.

His voice was the only thing that kept her from attacking him, "I'm sorry, I'm a fool for pretty girls, and you're particularly pretty. Forgive me if a song writer can't help but dream that someone so fair maiden would grace him with a kind word, or even a kiss."

"You're smooth," Lana muttered, "I'll give you credit. You've picked the wrong woman I'm afraid. I just ended an affair, and I'm not in the mood for a new lover."

"No cure for an old lover like a new one," The Bard countered.

"My heart needs to heal a little more," Lana said, thinking less of the Kajiit and more of Julius. Something about the way Jon was dotting reminded her of the bright eyed young Imperial. Then of course the fondness she felt for him faded as the old worn memory of him unabashedly fucking her Stepmother reemerged. If she ever got the chance to go back to Anvil and have time to cause Julius's death alongside a contract, she was pretty sure she'd do it.

"Sithis how I've changed," she thought, grateful that Jon had now become silent beside her.

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><p>The next day Jon made a menace of himself on the cart again and the older women riding with them seemed to eat it up. One of the matrons was in her forties and still looked very attractive, so Lana had hope that Jon would focus on the more available female in the group. Lana had made a point to get up early so she could sit towards the front of the cart, away from Jon. When she could ignore the singing and conversations Lana would find her thoughts drifting towards the family Lucien had spoken of. Something about being part of a family again, a happy one, one that understood each other and worked for each other's betterment, made Lana happy.<p>

Unfortunately Jon didn't get the hint again today, and he kept trying to drag Lana into his stories. By the time the cart stopped for the last evening on the road, Lana was grateful for the chance to go off with the women and bathe themselves in a stream by the road. The rivers were full from the spring's melt, and Lana kept diving down under water, enjoying the ominous noise filling her ears while she was submerged. As she kept diving under, Lana had noticed that several people had walked away from the water, but had not discovered she was alone until she reemerged for air and found Jon waiting for her by the bank.

"It's well past dusk," The bard teased, "You're going to catch your death of cold."

Floating in the water, Lana simply narrowed her eyes and watched Jon. She knew the water was to dark for him to see anything revealing, but he was keeping close to her clothing. The bard split his lips in an infuriating smile, letting Lana know he had trapped her from getting close to her clothes. A pair of well oiled leather boots kicked the dagger Lucien had given Lana up into the air. Jon caught the weapon deftly in his hands, pulling the scabbard away to study what she was carrying on her hip.

"Nasty looking blade," he said after a whistle. "Did the dirty Kajiit that fucked you give it to you as a gift?"

Anger filled Lana from toe to finger and she growled from the water, "What are you talking about?"

"Those scars on your shoulder," Jon gestured with the dagger, "Kajiit's like to leave a mark on human women who are stupid enough to sleep with them. It's a mark to let other Kajiit's you'll whore yourself out for kind words or money."

Fuming with anger at the Bard's boldness, Lana tried to bore a hole in the man's chest with her eyes, but said nothing as she felt no need to justify herself to this stranger.

"You should count yourself lucky you met me," Jon kidded, "It's time someone taught you why you should keep it in your own species, or maybe you like being fucked by a barn cat?"

As Jon hurled his last insult at Lana, the would-be assassin sunk underneath the water again, pushing herself towards the bank of the stream. Coolness surrounded her in a swirling tide, and her breath stilled. She could taste the anticipation of what she was about to do as she stepped close to the bard, putting her hand on her dagger, and pushing it down. Jon's eyes grew wider as the woman slowly emerged from the water, no sign of bashfulness as her body glimmered with wetness in the light of the setting sun.

She ran her finger across Jon's mouth, and the man closed his eyes. Jon cooed a little, amazed his taunting had worked out so well. Of course that was the distraction Lana wanted as she quickly pulled the dagger from Jon's hand and drove it into his gut. Jon let out a wounded grunt, and Lana removed the dagger, using all of her strength to slice his neck open and silence him. Silent, Lana followed Jon, who was now backing towards the water in fear.

"I need you to die already," Lana said as she kicked Jon into the water and drove her knife into his heart.

Lana felt a great release as the life slipped from Jon, as if his death had caused a kiss of satisfaction from the Night Mother. She felt even greater pleasure at the thought of his soul joining Sithis. Lana put her hands on dead man's shoulders and pushed his body down into the stream as best she could. Under the tide she placed several loose rocks on top of Jon's corpse, eventually weighing him down between breaths of air.

Feeling secure Jon's body wouldn't break free from the pool for several days, Lana returned to the shore and put on her clothing. She checked herself for blood spots before moving several branches over the drops of blood. That was when lightning flashed in the distance with thunder following not long after.

"Praise Sithis," She said, grateful her crime would be so easily washed away, but shocked as how well she had adapted to a religion she wasn't really a part of yet.

She joined several people who were trying to set up bedrolls under the cart, but mud from the storm quickly churned up once the rain came, leaving no one at the campsite dry. Everyone except Lana complained, and several started down the road towards Bravil rather than wait out the rain.

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><p>In the morning the cart was stymied in the mud, and by the time Lana reached the city of Bravil she was filthier than she had ever been. She walked through the gates of the quaint little town, making it to the road she needed to traverse, and reached the inn by nightfall. More rain came and washed a lot of the mud from her body, but the discomfort of the constant wetness did not stop Lana. With grim determination she walked up to the door of the Inn of Ill Omen in the middle of the cool night and knocked at the wooden door.<p>

The innkeeper was more than happy to help a poor wet girl with gold. He found a pair of dry pants and a shirt from an old tenant who had left in the middle of the night, and quickly ushered Lana into a dry room with a bed roll. She paid a gold piece extra for the clothes, and was glad to find that they were lacking holes or stains. Lana was annoyed but grateful when the owner came back upstairs to offer her a half warm cup of soup, but not surprised, as she had been listening to track his movements through the creaking old Inn. Fortunately he returned to bed afterwards.

Lana curled up on top of the bed roll, watching the dripping water from her clothes as it hit the floor, and waited for anyone she had awakened to go to sleep. Once a considerable amount of time had passed, Lana slipped down the stairs on her bare feet, taking each board as gingerly as possible. She found a basement entrance and opened it as slowly as possible, and took the same care with the new set of stairs. Lana listened in the darkness for any sign of life, because no other occupants were residing on the second floor, and Rufio had to be somewhere.

A soft snoring alerted Lana to someone sleeping in the room to the left. She entered the humble quarters, annoyed when she discovered that a full bed was unoccupied in the cellar and she was stuck with a bedroll. She stood over the sleeping man, the power of their situation filling her with an uneasy strength. She discovered, as she stilled the stray worries that she had the wrong person, that she anticipated this murder like a beggar anticipated his next meal. A feeling seeped from between the boards and into the air, filling Lana's lungs with a dark starriness that made every moment pleasurable in an indiscernible way.

With no word or noise Lana brought the dagger down into Rufio's heart, the man jolted under the impact then quickly fell still. Lana fancied for a moment she could feel his last heartbeat echo up the steel of the dagger, and Lana shivered as she retracted the weapon and filled the room with the wet noise of tissue. Wiping the ooze from the blade now became a holy gesture for Lana, who cut free the part of the man's shirt for the task and stuffed it in her pocket.

Without remorse she then slowly crept upstairs, ready to leap upon anyone who might be trying to investigate strange noises coming from the cellar. It seemed strange how the air should be so still right after a murder, but life always goes on no matter how cruel the moment. The last thing Lana did before returning to her room was to unlock the front door to the inn, making it look like the person who had killed Rufio had picked the lock.

A night of fitful sleep came, Lana laid on the bedroll energized from the murder, and worrying someone would figure out the death had been because of her. She watched as dawn's light wiggled through the cracks in the wood of the house, casting cobwebs of light across the floor and wall. Noises came from the kitchen as the businessman started up in the Inn. She waited awhile before heading down for food, and as she took her first step on the stairs she expected the people in the inn to throw her out for being evil.

Once Lana made herself comfortable at the table, a cup of warm tea was pushed in front of her alongside a simple plate of salted bacon. She ate greedily, amazed that a murderer could still sate hunger in such a simple way. After all she as thrice blooded now wasn't she? The secretiveness of it seemed almost as appealing to her as the deed itself, and now she could return to Bravil for a real night's sleep and indoctrination into a new family.

As the Innkeeper took a bowl of meat towards the cellar, Lana rose and bid him farewell.

"Bravil is to the south, correct?" she asked, seeming very eager.

"Good luck in your travels Miss," the stern looking man wished as his head disappeared down stairs.

Expecting to hear screaming or someone calling for the guards Lana kept an eye out for anyone wanting to slow her journey towards her fate. She was amazed how quickly the gates to Bravil appeared, and as she entered the town cleaner than before. Almost in a trance with the thrill of having gotten away with murder, she found that she wandered over to the statue of a maiden with several children reaching up from the base. The figure seemed to speak to Lana in a way she couldn't quite decipher, and she barely noticed a wood elf who bumped shoulders with her as he walked by.

"Excuse me," Lana muttered, and the wood elf paused for a second, looking her in the eye in a way she wasn't comfortable with. Lana looked back, confused by the stranger's sudden interest. The Wood Elf then turned his head to the statue, a smile parting his lips as if he heard a joke, and he turned to look at Lana with an off-putting kindness.

"Some say a prayer to the Lucky Old Lady that she may guide them," The elf said, "You might find her blessing more beneficial than most."

The brown skinned elf then turned and walked away without another word. Unsure why she felt the need to heed the stranger's odd request, Lana walked forward and said a prayer before the statue of a woman. Remaining for several seconds, a thick tiredness her body and Lana looked up at the statue who seemed to be pointing suggestively towards the Inn. Unsure at the motivation for her action Lana kissed the statue's foot in reverence, then turned and followed it's gesture to find room and board.


	3. Chapter 3

_Once again if you like it, hate it, feel meh about it: please review! You get one good luck point every time you review._

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><p>The ceiling of the Bravil Inn had one warped board in it. This was a detail Lana couldn't help but fixate on every time she awoke from her otherwise sound sleep. With this board out of place, Lana worried the ceiling would be unsound and possibly collapse in on her. It seemed like a simple thing to fix, but never having constructed a building before, Lana couldn't really say.<p>

Staring at this one out of place wooden plank in the ceiling, Lana finally expressed what was bothering her. Where was Lucien LaChance? Why had he not come?

A thousand worries filled her mind. She had gotten away with killing Rufio without anyone noticing, using the blade Lucien had specified. This insecurity always made Lana's thoughts raced back to the Bard. The stupid bard. Surely this was the brotherhood punishing her for making an unscripted kill. The bard had been mostly innocent; after all he had done nothing to show that he might do her harm. Yet the Brotherhood seemed so pro-death, would they really judge her for what was almost self defense?

No, something was wrong. Lana choked back a crawling nervousness that had laid itself in her chest and threatened to erupt up through her throat. All Lana could hope for was that if this upset did expel itself from her body, that it would destroy that crooked board overhead. The idea of vomiting nervous magma made Lana laugh for a moment and then grow silent as she heard a scuffle down stairs.

"It's just some drunks getting into a brawl," Lana thought to herself.

Those fears were squelched as she heard footsteps on the stairs moving deftly towards her room. The feet were moving too rhythmically, as if they were trained to behave in unison. Steadying herself, Lana found herself pushing her weapons away from her body as the Guards broke through the door. Two men and one woman surrounded Lana with their swords drawn, as another woman stepped forward with a scroll in her hand.

"Lana Sullivan," the woman read, "Under the authority of the temporary government created until the successor of Uriel Septim VII can be determined, I place you under arrest for the murder of Roselyn Montgomery-Sullivan. Your crimes are an abomination in the face of the Divines, and you are advised to remain quite until a barrister can be assigned to you. Come with me."

Lana's whole body felt numb as the guards gripped her arms and forced her into a standing position. She turned and looked at the men and women who had just taken her into custody and begged them with a small voice, "Please, release me. If you knew what that woman had done to me, you'd understand why I had to leave."

The guards said nothing as they clamped manacles around her wrist and led her though the Inn. Several people stared on in horror as she was taken out the door, and several more were trying to be as inconspicuous as possible. Arriving outside Lana was shoved into a waiting cart and the horses began to push forward towards the Imperial City.

As they rode through the center of Bravil, Lana caught sight of the Lucky Old Lady, who seemed to be waving to her as she left. A tear escaped Lana's eye for the injustice of her having to be arrested for _this_ murder. At that moment the young captive felt like the Lucky Old Lady had caressed her face in assurance that nothing would happen. This confused Lana more than she cared to admit, and she attributed the sensation to the unfortunate state she found herself in.

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><p>The barrister assigned to Lana proved to be more of a buffoon than a useful lawyer. She spent most of an afternoon telling him of the abuse lavished on her by her stepmother, Roselyn Montgomery-Sullivan. The man remained mute as she told him about the time the woman had beaten her to the point of bleeding lacerations for breaking a vase. Nothing stirred him as she told him about the endless times she'd been denied food for some imagined faux-pas. The only time the man with fat rosy cheeks seemed to react was when she confessed how her stepmother had stolen her lover.<p>

"I wouldn't tell anyone about that," the barrister said as he straightened his well worn velvet clothes. "The prosecution could claim you killed your step-mother for revenge. Here, here, it seems the only reason you were arrested was because a Kajiit named Do-Jaqas decided to turn evidence against you in exchange for his freedom. Seems his family was smuggling Skooma around Cyrodill. Terrible stuff, Skooma. At any rate, they seem to be taking the confession of this cat creature fairly seriously. Is there anything you can offer that would make him seem less credible?"

The eyes in Lana's skull felt like they were going to explode out of her head. She'd barely been able to eat since she had been arrested, and Lana was glad her stomach was empty, lease she fall ill. She pulled against the manacles binding her wrists tightly, tears in her eyes, and wished she could do anything to get out of this room. Do-Jaqas had betrayed her. The man who had once been her savior, promising her freedom if she could just steal her inheritance and escape with him, had turned around and betrayed her for killing the woman who would give her no peace.

Of course Lana had never fooled herself that she was any great love to Do-Jaqas, perhaps she was a fond remembrance, but never a beloved. She also never imagined he'd turn traitor. The unfairness of it boiled in her brain, making Lana laugh at the irony someone thrice murdered would be pinned for the one killing that was most guiltless. The idea of an innocent murderer piqued Lana's since of humor and she snickered, ignoring strange looks from the barrister who was going over some minor written matters.

Being back stabbed by someone you trusted and cared for seemed like a suitable continuation of Lana's life. After all her mother had died when she was two. Her father had refused to stop putting himself in dangers way for profit, and had died when she was ten. This left her with Roselyn, who despised the idea of being trapped in a shop having to take care of a brat that was not hers. Roselyn's anger at her husband's foolishness made her take her frustration out on Lana at every chance and had caused Lana's stepmother to do everything in her power to break Lana's soul so she'd be too emotionally crippled to leave.

Cruelty and injustice were the imagined themes of Lana's life. Her first and only love stolen away by Roselyn, and now the only other man she'd given her body to had turned evidence against her. At this point Lana began to weep. She wept for the innocent child who was never allowed the freedom to enjoy its childhood. She wept for how much of her life she had thrown to jackals that would snap it's bones and then come after her dismembered corpse as if they were entitled to her blood too. Most of all, Lana wept for the Dark Brotherhood, the family that was supposed to replace the one she finally killed when she put the dagger in Roselyn. She prayed to Sithis that what sin she had committed to make her new family forsake her be shown to Lana.

This tragedy of her situation was ultimately the most amusing thing Lana had heard in years. The futility of the situation, that life was so cruel, all seemed like the punch line to a joke only someone in Lana's position could appreciate. So she laughed while she cried, despite her lawyers protest that insanity wouldn't set her free. She laughed again in the courtroom when the magistrate announced the death penalty, throwing the book at the lawless in a time when law was most needed. Didn't she know that monsters like her were what killed the Emperor?

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><p>The russet haired woman stood, staring at the stairwell across from her holding cell. She waited dutifully for a sound she knew she would hear, the in unison clattering of guard boots on stairs. They would come for her soon to take her to her death. With no idea of time other than light or darkness, Lana sunk her head against the cold bar, sighed, and turned to walk over to her bed. The cot was really just a wood plank with cheap cloth laid atop it. For the first time in days Lana stilled herself on the cot and dozed off for a few minutes. While she slept she thought she heard the quite movement of cloth around her, and she wondered if this darkness was what the Void would be like.<p>

A glove hand came down on Lana's mouth, and she looked up to see Lucien's cowled face. He raised his free hand to his lips and gestured for her to be quite. Lana nodded. She hadn't spoken for days and she had no reason to change this now. Lucien had entered through her cell, probably walking through the hidden entrance rumored to rest in the cell at the end of the block. A large Orc then appeared out of the shadows propped up a tanned woman red hair.

The Orc settled the woman against the wall, only to have the woman demand of him, "I want my ale. You promised me ale."

Shaking his head, the Orc pulled a small bottle of cheap beer from his belt and offered it to the woman, who took it and drank it with great zest. Lana looked at Lucien who simply smiled, and then turned to the Orc to issue the quite order, "Do it now."

The hulking green Orc gently grabbed the now unresponsive woman's hand, whatever was in the ale having sent her into a virtual coma. The Orc produced a jagged piece of metal from his belt and sliced a line down the woman's wrist, ceased her other arm, and did the same. He then pressed the shard into the woman's limp hand, his large olive fingers engulfing her brown digits, and let the shard drop. The intoxicated woman slumped over to her side, her face now paler than it had been when she entered.

Drinking this in, Lana breathed in the air around her with a new zest. Lucien touched her shoulder, smiled, and then guided her out of the cell. The Orc locked the barred doors, and the three snuck off into the darkness of the escape route. The small group traversed several yards of guarded sewer, only to emerge topside with the moon shining down on their faces.

Lucien silently lead his followers towards an abandoned shack on the other side of the water that the sewer spilled out into. Unlocking the door, Lucien said to the Orc, "stand watch for now, I'll relieve you as soon as she's comfortable."

The Orc nodded yes in response, and leaned back against the wooden door to keeping an eye out to make sure no one was in pursuit.

Inside off the shack Lana walked over to the fur covered bed and sat down. She watched as Lucien started up a fire in the ancient looking stone hearth, and added stock for a soup. Amazed at how Lucien had considered every detail, Lana relaxed some, and allowed herself to smile as Lucien pushed a chair across from her, taking her hands in his.

"I assume you understand that you are a member of our family now?" Lucien asked, trying to gauge Lana.

Overwhelmed, Lana took one of her hands back and covered her face, and then began to cry. Lucien moved in beside her and crushed her to his chest, exhaling onto the part in the center of her hair. Quickly regaining control of her emotions, Lana wrapped her arms around Lucien's neck; her eyes closed, and breathed in the oiled smell of his leather armor. They stayed like that for several minutes, until Lana finally pulled back in a moment of embarrassment. Lucien had recruited her for being a cold hearted murderer and here she was crying because he had saved her from death.

"Welcome my sister," Lucien said, his deep, soothing voice. "The guards won't care that the woman found dead in your cell isn't you. She looks enough like you, "a red guard piece of trash." They will be satisfied that 'justice' was served by your own hand. The Brotherhood watches after its own."

"Praise Sithis," Lana whispered.

"Praise him indeed," Lucien said, standing now.

The Speaker quietly moved to a chest in order to remove black armor and the weapons Lana had left in Bravil. The Speaker put the items on the bed in an orderly fashion, and Lana picked up the blade she had used for her initiatory murders, pressing it to her chest. Lucien looked on and nodded in approval.

"This is the uniform you would have been given at the sanctuary I oversee, "Lucien said. "It's located in Cheydinhal. You'll return there with Gogron in the morning and he'll introduce you to Ocheeva the head of the sanctuary. It means nothing that you did not receive these garments in your new home, what matters is that you follow the tenets and serve the Night Mother faithfully."

Nodding, Lana scooped up the clothes and placed them on top of a dresser with care. Lucien seemed to be watching her, probably making sure she wasn't crazed or changed by the experience of being arrested and sentenced to death. Sensing this, Lana walked over to the Speaker, bowed her head, and said "I owe you and the Brotherhood my life. I will never forget that."

"You owe me nothing," Lucien spoke, lifting her cheek so that her eyes met his. "The bard was right about one thing, you are beautiful. You deserve songs written about you, but not his trite, sugary love ballads. He should rather have sung of the dark one who the sun has rarely kissed. The strong woman who killed her oppressor and raised her blade to the glory of Sithis."

Her cheeks hot from the attention, Lana tried to avert her gaze. Unwilling to be ignored, Lucien planted a soft kiss on her lips, then pressed in for more when he found her mouth wanting. The assassin's fingers bore their way through Lana's hair as if he was playing the strands of a fine instrument. She was sure this man was master of anything he desired and if he desired her she was willing to be pulled into a touch that ran as deep as The Void.

The Speaker quietly broke off his affection to tend his soup, passing a hot bowl to Lana with a soft kiss on her head. Lana accepted, watching Lucien as he walked to the front door to pass the food to the Orc. Lana made quick work of her meal, and Lucien bid her to lay beside him in the only bed in the room. Lana slept for several hours as Lucien rubbed her back through her thin prison garb. For the first night in many days Lana found true rest. She barely noticed when Lucien stood to relieve the Orc, who entered the room and used a wall to hold him while he slumbered.

In the morning Lana woke to find Lucien gone. As she looked out the window Lana felt a pang of hurt that he hadn't said good-bye. The Orc, who was already awake, noticed her distressed look and said to Lana, "Don't worry; he made us some more of that terrific soup before he went. I'm a terrible cook, so you should be grateful Lucien made the effort. Oh, and welcome to the family."

Lana laughed and took the wood bowl from the Orc's muscular hands.

"Thanks," Lana muttered and began to drink down the soup as fast as she could. As the liquid hit her stomach and heated her insides Lana told herself that this was the warmth of Lucien's affection. Lana shuttered a little as she thought of Lucien's kiss. It was like a promise he couldn't quite make, which caused the gesture to obtain a rare erotic power. Thinking over this Lana remembered what a fool she was, she shouldn't worry about the intentions of a brother who treated his sister so tenderly.

Lana changed into her new uniform, pulling a brown woolen cloak on so that she wouldn't look to odd walking the streets. Once she was finished dressing Lana stepped outside and held her hands up for the Orc's approval. The green man applauded quietly and kicked his head to the side to acknowledge that they should get going. Walking behind the Orc Lana admired the battle axe strapped to his back, the blade looked well maintained, and she wondered how he managed to commit murder with such a clumsy weapon.

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><p>Cheydinhal was a town fit for a fairy tale. As they entered the gates Lana was awe struck by the towering houses with the quaint stones highlighted by skilled woodwork. It seemed so much more exotic here than in Anvil, and Lana looked at each house the childish wish to be able to peer inside. Even the dilapidated house that the Orc ultimately lead her to made Lana feel like she was now part of something more mysterious than before.<p>

The Orc took Lana's hand and took her down the dark passageway of the dilapidated house, to a glowing door with a skull on it. The green giant squeezed Lana's small palm and reached out to touch the black print located in the center of the door's skull.

"What is the color of night?" A dry, genderless voice whispered from all around the two people. Lana stepped back, and the Orc turned to her with a toothy grin.

"Sanguine, my brother," Gogron answered the door.

"Welcome," the stone door hissed as it swung open into the dark stone basement beyond.

Finally letting go of Lana's hand Gogron walked forward into the shadows and disappeared into the sanctuary. The bronze skinned woman then stepped forward into the shadows by herself, crossing the threshold into her new life. Advancing further, Lana stopped and turned in surprise to see a skeleton with a sword and a shield cocking its head as if it was studying her. As the bone creature then returned to his rounds a voice from behind Lana spoke, "Don't worry about him. You've gained entrance to the sanctuary using the correct passphrase, he will not hurt you."

A tall woman stepped out from the shadows now, the light warping around her scaled features, giving Lana a glance of how her species must look moving through dark waters. The patches of midnight in the room seemed to swirl around the lizard woman, who smiled at the impressed look on Lana's face. The reptilian female then extended her webbed hand in a graceful gesture and said "Welcome sister, I am Ocheeva, I run the Cheydinhal sanctuary for Lucien."

Lana looked back silently, her golden eyes reflecting the candle light around her. The lizard crooked the edges of her mouth again, and reached over to place her hand on the middle of Lana's back. Ocheeva then gestured to the room that held them.

"Welcome to our unusual family my dear," Ocheeva began, "Before we go any further, I must teach you about the Five Tenets we all must follow.


	4. Chapter 4

_Special thanks to Daedra-Hearts. You reviewers keep me writing. So Review, darn it. :D_

_Also sorry about the delay, I've been more in the mood to paint recently._

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><p>The board overhead creaked as Lana held her breath and wished this contract was over. She had enjoyed her last job, sneaking onto a pirate ship and murdering the captain, but laying in wait in this crawlspace was agonizing. What was worse was that soot from the chimney leaked out through several poorly sealed bricks and had coated her exposed flesh with black grime.<p>

Later smoke had started to seep into the close quarters, after the target's bodyguard started the evening fire. The smoke served to make Lana's already irritated breathing more labored. She tightened the assassin's cowl over her nose, and looked at her blackened hands with annoyance. Slipping away into the night would be easier for all the filth, at least.

Using her dagger to ply away a few splintered pieces of wood, Lana distracted herself from the urge to cough. As she regained the ability to breathe her thoughts drifted to Lucien again. He had become somewhat of a hero to her, saving her from prison and what not. He had kissed her the night he saved her from execution and she played that moment over in her head, wishing she'd enjoyed it more. Perhaps this action was just the brotherly tending of a sister who badly need the attention, but it didn't feel like that. She was pretty. He had said she was pretty. Surely that meant she was special somehow. It meant something special to her.

What would Antoinetta say if she knew what Lana was thinking? The girl had a special love for Lucien, and Lana hated it. The blond had recounted, in all innocence, how Lucien had saved her from the streets. The story was just familiar enough to make Lana burn with jealousy. Antoinetta was cocky too; she spoke of rising through the ranks of The Brotherhood as if it wasn't very hard to do. It made Lana want to kick the blond in the teeth. Her obsessive thinking went over every word Antoinetta had spoken in the sanctuary a thousand times over, looking for a confession that her rival had slept with Lucien.

Still there was no proof in word or deed that Antoinetta was anything other than a fond sister to a protective brother. It didn't stop Lana from second guessing every female in the sanctuary's words. Would he have slept with the elf? Ocheeva? Surely not, but who knew? Perhaps a fondness for Ocheeva is why Lucien made him the head of his sanctuary.

Worst of all was Antoinetta's claim that Sithis spoke specially to her when she killed. He supposedly filled her black heart with a deep passion for her deeds and pushed her towards the completion of her kills. That pissed Lana off more than anything else Antoinetta said. Why didn't Sithis speak to her? Wasn't she one of his chosen children also? The thought of Sithis talking to Antionetta and being silent to her made Lana want to drive her dagger into Antoinetta's ears and ask her what she heard now. What held her back was that Lana was sure dismembering one of her sisters would get her kicked out and make Lucian hate her.

Of course this entire line of thought was insane. So rather than continue to dwell, Lana refocused herself on the task at hand. Luckily by the time she snapped out of her day dreaming the target below was sitting in his chair. She watched through the cracks as his servant took a cup from the master and turned to fetch a book from the shelves. Once the bodyguard was safe Lana cut the strings to the mounted animal head that hung over the fireplace, the ties slipping free with amazing speed. A loud wet thud filled the assassin's ears as she quickly wiggled herself free of the crawl space and dashed for the cellar.

The Orc bodyguard was crying over his masters corpse as Lana slipped past, making her grateful that her shoes were muffled. This was what the contract had wanted, for it to look like an accident and spare the bodyguard. Her heart was in her throat as Lana moved through the rest of the basement, and the joy of the kill didn't reach her until she was outside of the house looking up at the stars. Several people had begun to gather around the front of the house, as the bodyguard emerged from the house with his dead master in his arms, screaming at the stars for justice.

Not wanting to be found covered in soot and dressed suspiciously near the scene of a death, Lana moved along the shadow filled wall, careful to watch for any nosey guards. A well in the backyard of one of the many houses provided a bucket of fresh water with which to clean the ashes from her hands and face. Next a dress stashed in tall bushes provided a change of clothes that would see her safely through the night at the inn. Having shoved her armor into her satchel, Lana looked around to make sure no one had seen her. The ruffled finery felt odd and her skin stung from the chill of the cold night air in Bruma, but she looked good.

As she moved along the street to the Inn, Lana tried to smile and act disinterested in seeing the half crazed Orc with his dead master. The streets were buzzing with people gossiping about what happened and guards trying to calm everyone down. Fortunately this made it easy to slip between people with out being noticed. When Lana arrived at her destination she was supposed to see a shrouded man speaking to a KhaJiit nearby. The man's frame seemed familiar, and when he turned to acknowledge a person going to gawk at the Orc the man's face shown in the moonlight. Lucien. He noticed Lana as well, a knowing smile slipping across his lips and he immediately excused himself from the KhaJiit with a firm shake of hand and paw. The feline humanoid eyed Lana suspiciously, but much to her relief he walked off towards some unknown destination before Lucien reached her.

Instead of greeting each other Lana and Lucien just stood with in arms length of each other, waiting for the other one to take action. Another person shuffled between the two of them, asking their forgiveness, and yelling "did you hear, that old wood elf is dead and his bodyguard is parading his corpse around town!"

The couple said nothing; the only sound was Lucien allowing a dark chuckle to escape his lips. They both knew what happened, even if he had been surprised to discover she had a mission in Burma tonight. For some reason she thought he did and had arranged to meet a friend on the off chance of seeing her. Why else would he be standing to close to the inn while chaos erupted all around town? This went unspoken. All these questions and conjectures, were answered well enough by two hungry eyes.

The stalemate was broken when Lucien reached out and grabbed her hand, the boldness giving Lana all the permission she needed to cave in. She followed him in to the inn and slowly up the steps to the room next to hers. The tavern was barren due to the events down in the street and the quite crept up into the Lucien's room, seeming to surround the two of them with a nod of approval. Then they were kissing. After it happened Lana couldn't remember if she kissed Lucien or he kissed her first. It probably didn't matter.

The Speakers strong hands kneaded at her flesh, pushing apart the folds of her dress and bringing his mouth down to her bronzed shoulder like a man thirsting for water at a spring. His obvious need made Lana burn and she arched her body against his, eager to please.

Hot breath spread across Lana's cleavage as Lucien unlaced her bodice. Her dress fell to the ground, and she turned to look at the speaker, who had taken a seat on the edge of the bed, his cloak wrapped around him in contrast to her state of undress. Some of the hair from his pony tail had slipped down, leaving chocolate strands around his face, and Lana felt a desire to see him with his hair down.

The speaker flicked his wrist and smiled, "Take off what's left."

Not one to argue over orders Lana allowed the loose pantaloons to fall, and then pulled her undershirt over her head. Then naked before him, answering his scrutinizing eye with confidence that she would please. Her skin was a darker brown where her arms, neck, and face met the most sun, but the rest of her had the healthy glow of someone with substantial Redguard heritage. Her strange reddish hair was mirrored in a Downey cleft between her legs, and that seemed to interest Lucien for some reason. Perhaps he'd never slept with a woman who wasn't Imperial. He stood and walked around her for a second, his cape flicking at Lana's ankles as he moved.

Lana allowed a small shiver to escape, the cold from the Burma night having seeped into even this room. Lucien cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again, and she began to unbutton his shirt. Lucien led her backwards towards the bed as her fingers rubbed their way long a stomach that showed only a hit of flab. The Speaker fell backwards on the bed, and used Lana's hand to pull her towards him. Following cheerfully Lana kissed Lucien again, her body hovering delicately on her knees as she reached down and freed him from his pants.

Lucien let out a soft gasp as she squeezed him firmly, then trailed his hands down the side of her body, squeezing her backside. Lana bit her lip and lowered herself onto him and began to slide her hips along his cock. Lucien's hands moved to her hips, seeming to direct how fast and firm her thrusts should go. Unwilling to be so blatantly directed, Lana took both of Lucien's hands in her own and placed them on the breasts, provoking no protest from her lover.

Allowing herself to enjoy this moment and her ability to control how fast or slow the lovemaking went, Lana tried to burn this moment into her brain, least it prove to be a onetime mistake. Eventually her body began to jerk faster, as the friction brought her orgasm to the front. Lucien started to thrust his hips up against her, causing the both of them to spill over at the same moment.

Satisfied, Lana laid down in Lucien's arms for the second time, only this time feeling him grow soft inside of her body. The Speaker began to snore softly not long after they were finished and Lana looked at him longingly. She brushed a stray piece of hair out of his face and wished she didn't have to leave for the sanctuary in the morning. Lana knew, without Lucien telling her, that this moment would have to kept secret from her brothers and sisters. Still it would be amazing to see the look on Antoinetta's face if Lana told her that she and Lucien had been intimate.

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><p>In the morning Lana woke before Lucien and started to put her clothes on. A warm hand caught her wrist and squeezed firmly as she started to slip her boot up her ankle. She turned immediately to face The Speaker. His hair was disheveled and his brow seemed stern, but no more so than an ordinary man in an ordinary bed's eyes would seem if he caught his lover trying to sneak out. She thought she'd leave him there to rest and spare him the awkwardness of explaining why they couldn't be together. Apparently it would not be that easy for either of them.<p>

"You don't have to go," Lucien said as he stood. His white undershirt hanging down past his waste combined with his messy brown hair made him see like any man. Not a murderer, not a higher up in a cult of killers, maybe a guard or barrister. Still it was odd to see just Lucien, probably born somewhere in the empire, growing up like anyone else. Just a man. It frightened Lana a little to consider that he was merely human and not some all knowing shade who kept track of her comings and goings. Perhaps this was some secret he kept guarded within himself and the time had come to silence her for knowing he really was just ordinary.

"Stay," he beckoned, his voice rumbling in his chest as if it was a playful request and not an order. "You don't have to rush back to the sanctuary after every contract. It makes you look less suspicious if you stay in town afterwards. As long as you're sure you weren't seen afterwards it should be fine."

"I wasn't," she croaked, her voice raw in the morning air. Lana let her boot settle next to the bed and found herself in the Speakers arms. As he held her, Lucien allowed himself the luxury of smelling her hair, and he himself was surprised she didn't smell of some exotic spice but rather had a normal musty human scent. Lana forced herself to relax into his arms; if he wanted her to stay perhaps this wasn't some kind of sin against the Brootherhood. After all it wasn't like Lucien would put his family at risk. Something about the light sound of birds and the golden hue coming in through the windows made Lana feel like this was a normal love affair and not a torrid event between commander and commanded.

They spent the morning making love, eating breakfast, telling each other easy stories of their lives both during and before the brotherhood. Lucien went on about his time in Skyrim and how he had carved out a thief's eyes for stealing his purse. Despite herself Lana found herself laughing at how cruel the Speaker could be and she wondered at herself that something she would have found horrible before seemed so mirthful. So much change in such a small time.

"My father died at sea doing business," Lana found herself confessing to Lucien. "When he passed it left me in the care of Roselyn. A prisoner in that horrible store they ran together. I don't think he'd have married her if he'd realized she would end up taking care of me alone."

"Is that what she told you?" Lucien smiled at Lana from the bedside. He kept running his fingers along her bare arm, both of them still flushed from sex.

"Something like that," Lana mumbled. Of course her stepmother had never gone into specifics. It was just understood between them what had happened.

"Your father was in the thief's guild," Lucien corrected Lana, obviously being mindful of her reaction. "Your family has a tradition of joining that guild. I assumed you'd been raised to join them as well. Your stepmother wasn't a member, but she was a front for stolen goods in honor of your late father. That's why the guards were called on you when you killed her."

"How do you know so much about my family?" Lana scoffed.

"Some members of the thief's guild are friendly towards the Brotherhood," Lucien explained as he leaned back on the bed to relax. "We used them to procure items that we would not sully ourselves getting. Sometimes they help us build sanctuary's in secret. Other times we simply have our orders cross and have to make nice. Some members of the guild feel that we are a nuisance and put them at risk. Not the Sullivan's, however; while they have never joined our ranks, they have always helped us in times of need. You're a first. I'm sure your father would be proud."

"My father was thief," Lana said, her face growing pale as she looked at Lucien. "You knew him?"

"In my younger days I was introduced to him by a superior," Lucien said, his eyebrow raised slightly. "I finished off a target while he took a rare item from a chest. He died not long after. Probably got caught stealing."

"I was always told he was a merchant," Lana said, her voice becoming more desperate. "How do I know you're telling me the truth?"

"I have no reason to lie to you," Lucien said, pushing her hair out of her face.

Lana leaned back against the wall and looked at her lover for some sign what he was telling her was a joke. He simply returned her gaze. So she laid their wafting between anger, surprise, with acceptance an easy reach away. After all her father had always been gone on buisness and his friends always frightened her.

Before Lana could dwell on Lucien's news to long a knock came to the door. Lucien stood and began to tuck his tunic into his pants while Lana looked at him confusedly from the bed. The Speaker quickly reached down and grabbed her by the shoulders, pulled her to her feet. Once Lana was standing Lucien twirled her behind the bookcase and made a gesture to be quite. He then walked to the door and cracked it, greeting the same KhaJiit from last night. As Lucien opened the door Lana cursed to herself that him asking her to hide was a sign that their affair wasn't as allowable as she thought it was.

"I talked to an old friend today," The KhaJiit spoke. "You're right; I think that account is being mismanaged. We should have an early dinner and discuss it."

"It will have to be tonight," Lucien responded. "I have business to attend to in another town."

"Of course, of course," The KhaJitt assured, "I wouldn't want to take up to much of your time. We're both busy men after all. So dinner tonight at my place, you'll enjoy the food I have to offer."

Once the KhaJiit was out of ear shot Lucien stepped over to face Lana with an awkward smile on his face. She looked back at him from her hiding spot with large eyes and shook her head that he didn't need to say anything. Moving to gather her things Lucien once again took her wrist in his hand and stopped her.

"Stay one more night," He asked. "Tomorrow I have to leave, and I fear I might not be able to see you again for some time."

"One more night," Lana promised, more relieved than she cared to admit.

* * *

><p>The return to Cheydinhall proved agonizing. Being alone seemed like a curse to Lana, who normally failed to notice such states. Every bird, bee, and rock reminded her of Lucien. The worst part was that she had no idea when they would see each other again. Even worse than that was that she had to keep her new lover secret, just like all of her old lovers.<p>

Still the murderer allowed herself the quite fantasy that some day they could have a little house together on the edge of Cheydinhall where they could meet in secret. Maybe even some days they would both creep out of town together and walk through the streets of a strange city while holding hands. No one would care, not even the Night Mother. Surely if she or Sithis objected Lana would know about it by now.

Entering the sweet simple city Lana had come to think of has home didn't even work to part the melancholy of leaving her lover. She entered the sanctuary with a false smile, but sincere welcome for all of the members of her family. Even Antionette was a welcome sight.

Ocheeva quickly ushered the young woman into her room and informed her that she had received a promotion. It seemed Lana would be working for Ocheeva now, and her contracts would become more complicated with better pay out. If this was a sign from the Night Mother concerning her love affair, it showed that her actions were deserving of reward.

So night after night Lana trained, killed, or otherwise distracted herself from missing Lucien. When weeks turned into months and she still had not heard from him, the longing dulled and became easier. He'd warned her after all. Though part of her still wondered if he hadn't had his way with all of the women in the sanctuary. Promising a tryst that would never come and then never coming to call. Though she doubted Antionette would pine away as she did if her desires had ever been tended to as Lana's had.

Finally one night a shadow crossed her bed, and Lana rose to the sound of familiar footsteps. She arose and moved after it with no care to modesty. It was as if she was dreaming, chasing the ghost of a lover she couldn't forget. To her dismay the figure left through the door before she could catch up to it. As she turned to leave the hallway, still in her nightgown, Lana ran into Teinaava. The Argonian smiled at Lana and extended his hand gracefully.

"You have made my night easier," Teinaava spoke, "Ocheeva wishes to see you as soon as it is convenient."

Lana nodded and thanked the lizard, who was Ocheeva's twin brother, and headed towards her superior's room. The female Argonian seemed to size Lana up as she entered the sanctuary, as if something important had happened that Lana was unaware of.

"You've not grown very close to your brothers and sisters," Ocheeva mused. "Yet you follow the tenants, so I have no quarrel with you. I wonder why he picked you to be singled out and not that usurping blond."

Lana said nothing, which seemed to annoy the tired looking Ocheeva.

"Lucien was here," Ocheeva said as she collected some grace around herself. "He left me this letter to give to you and you only. My eyes are not even allowed to see what is inside."

Her stomach churned as soon as Lana heard Lucien's name. She took the letter carefully from the green scaled hands that offered it. She noted the seal on the parchment and felt for a second as if Lucien's breath was once again on her shoulder as he laid his teeth into her neck. The small tanned woman tucked the letter into her night robe and bid Ocheeva good night.

"You won't read it in front of me," Ocheeva teased as she settled on the edge of her bed, her clothes obviously thrown on in haste.

Lana simply smiled as she turned to leave again. Once she had privacy the woman's eyes poured over the letter. It seemed that Lucien needed her immediately at his hideout. Fortunately it wasn't very far from the sanctuary. She was to leave and tell no one where she was going, and no one was to read the content of this letter. Lucien had a test for her, and whatever it was Lana was certain she could pass.

Not willing to leave a sensitive document around, Lana tossed the paper into the fire, noticing that Ocheeva and Vincete were at the far end of the hall looking at her and talking. The human woman mulled over her options and decided to get some more sleep. A test of skill was best met with a clear mind, and she would be better off buying supplies in the afternoon so she could leave in the evening. Lana wasn't fond of traveling at night, but the darkness made for good cover.

Looking up she noticed that Vincete was alone in the hallway now. The vampire seemed to be considering something and with her acknowledgement of his presence he came over to the lone Lana.

"I've been thinking about something," Vincete said, his high cheekbones casting gaunt shadows as he spoke. Vincete made Lana nervous and it had everything to do with the fact he was a vampire.

Lana nodded at the vampire to continue.

"I've been thinking that it's a shame a beautiful woman like you has to grow old," Vincete started. "I could stop that, preserve you in place, keep you from feeling the ravages of time. You'd also gain a power most mortals only dream of. You should consider the offer of my gift and get back to me."

Her head bobbing as she listened Lana held back her revulsion; he was her brother after all. She stood then and looked at the ancient man with his sunken cheekbones, pointed fangs, and pale skin. She tried to imagine herself like him, living in fear of the sunlight, so strong but so vulnerable. She couldn't ever imagine willingly agreeing to such a thing.

"Don't answer me tonight," Vincete said, seeming to read her thoughts. "Come to me when you have given it due consideration and give me an answer. It would be nice not to be alone in this place. I desire to be with one of my own kind."

"I will," Lana spoke quietly. "Now if you excuse me I have a mission tomorrow and need my rest."

"A special mission it seems," Vincete mused, his eyebrows arched in curiosity.

Ignoring his inquiry Lana slid in-between the bed cloth and tried to calm herself. Between the rush of receiving a letter from Lucien and Vincete's offer her heart was pounding a little. Her lack of response didn't dismay the vampire, however.

"One might wonder what the mission is concerning," he pried.

"If you need to know you will," Lana grumbled, "Now I need to sleep if I'm going to be worthy of anything tomorrow. Sorry my brother. Kill well."

"Kill well," Vincete repeated as he gathered himself and started to move towards his room. He was obviously disappointed in her lack of confidence, but it didn't matter to Lana. From this moment on her only thought would be of passing Lucien's test so that she might see him again.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sorry I have taken so long to update this. I know a lot of you wanted the conclusion, so I will work on it. I'd like to start a sequel of sorts that happens in Skyrim...but with different characters of course. SO I will finish it... My main goal is work on original fiction, but this story is fun and I don't want to let it go._

_Let me know what you think! What do you want to have happen?_

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><p>Lana took a slash to her arm before realizing how useless her dagger was. Skeletons required a hard hid to the middle section, breaking the bones. Swords and knives just slid into air and did nothing.<p>

Cloth wrapped around a broken table leg helped steady her as she brought it down on the head of a rotten zombie. The rotten brain tissue pushed out of its ears as a kick to its middle section send the creature down onto the stone floor. The worst part about zombies had to be the meaty noise they made when hurt. Still, they were easier to kill than skeletons.

The difficulty of adapting to previously unknown creatures is what kept Lana from adventuring. The advantage of a single chosen victim to stalk from the shadows proved Lana's cup of tea. The kills she made for contracts feed a deep seeded blood lust. These abominations felt like a job. Stalk, bash, beat, repeat.

Hands and clothes covered with dirt and dust as Lana stepped into a room. Gripping the lathed table leg she looked around the edges of the room where the candles didn't meet. Something shifted in her peripheral vision and she turned, raising her arms to swing at it, before she dropped the table leg mid swing.

"You have done an adequate job of dispatching my sentinels," Lucien said.

He stepped forward slowly, his face covered with a dark cowl. Here was the majestic human who came to the foot of her bed and beckoned Lana to join the Dark Brotherhood. Months of longing had melted into apathy and the lover she burned for showed himself as the dark man who served the Night Mother. Lana glanced around the vaulted ceiling of the underground chamber. Her gaze stopped on hand rails going up towards a door and she turned to Lucien.

A cruel smile curled across his face. "I would have been less entertained had you taken the short cut."

Silent in response, Lana watched Lucien. The quiet remained and she felt him read every nuisance of her awkwardness and concern. Refusing to give him this pleasure she turned her emotions off, becoming a beautiful nothing. He reflected the absence, a perfect mirror. His polished stoicism impressed her but at the same time increased her worry. Would he see her flaws and purify them through a cruelty born of intimacy? She shivered at the thought.

Suddenly Lucien stood at her side, his fingers trailing through her hair. She cocked her neck to the side and he took the strands in his fingers, yanking her head back painfully. A deep growl spoke to his pleasure.

"You are truly a creature of stealth," He said. "I admire your technique. Lana, I am a speaker, a finger on the hand of the black brotherhood. Only the initiated know the secret of the speakers and that is each finger has a nail, a talon. My claw has been wretched from my flesh and I desire to replace it with you."

"What?"

"I didn't expect you to speak." Lucien teased as he released her hair. "You are no longer bound to the tenants as the others are. You work directly for me. The listener has approved this decision, even when informed of our relationship. She thinks affection will motivate you to survive."

Shaking her head Lana watched him as he moved to face her. Looking up into his eyes she only saw the speaker, a fearsome killer. In his hardened features she found someone more akin to herself. That he wanted her for more than a lover and had the Listener's blessing cheered her, but something about his tone caused Lana to hide her smile.

"I have your first assignment if you want it."

Lana nodded.

"I thought you'd be eager." A grim quality filled Lucien and she watched him flip between delight and worry. "There is a traitor in your sanctuary. The Listener tells me this problem precedes your tenure and you will be spared for that reason."

Lucien paused and looked at Lana, communicating something he didn't want to voice.

In thanks she walked forward and pressed herself to him. His arms spread around her, squeezing her tight and holding her in place. "I don't have to sacrifice you, but to prove your worth you must eliminate the threat. Everyone in the sanctuary must die by your hand. If you don't, I will be forced to take your life."

Burying her face in his chest Lana tried to melt into Lucien. She couldn't care less about those people. While she didn't wish death on them, but she would do what she had to for the good of the Black Hand and the Night Mother. Meanwhile her senses were flooded with Lucien's smell and how hard he felt under his clothes. In him she saw Sithis embodied and she yielded to him in honor of her God.

If Lucien felt this he didn't show it. Instead he lifted her from where she stood and escorted her to a sleeping area. The furnishings were typical of houses in the region but seemed out of place in a dungeon. While he pealed the black leather armor from her body she looked up at the vaulted ceiling and thought how funny life could be. Did her step-mother know this would be Lana's fate? The evil she fostered in her heart, had it always been there? These things floated in and out of her thoughts as Lucien's body pressed into hers. His soft, firm flesh sunk into hers with only a little resistance, making both bodies quake. In the quite darkness they made love, turning and exploding together until warm bliss oozed out of them into the black.

* * *

><p>In the morning they had an ordinary breakfast of eggs and meat. Lucien sat across the table from Lana in a pair of black leather pants with no shirt on. She watched him spoon eggs into his mouth and saw the man she made love to the first night. Whenever she prepared her heart to abandon the image of him as the Speaker his face would grow hard and she'd wonder how she could think him mortal. These moments when he no longer felt the need to show his power were her first clue that he loved her.<p>

All too soon they stood on the surface of the earth again. They'd had sex right before walking up and she could still feel his moisture mixing with her own. He'd pulled on a white poets shirt, leaving it untucked. His hair fell around his face, wild and tangly. After demonstrating the proper way to enter the hidden door, Lucien turned and smiled in a way that promised something amazing.

"I suppose it would be improper to make you walk back to Cheydinhall."

Before Lana could laugh he reached a hand up and gestured boldly towards the ground. Lucien chanted several words in Latin, his baritone rich and commanding. The ground before them churned black like tar and smoke rose from the spot. Lana took a step back. A devilish black horse emerged from the muck, burning red eyes glared at the world around it. Free, the animal shook out its mane, showing off black skin and hair that seemed impossibly dark and rotten.

The devil horse neighed, causing Lucien to smile as he reached out and brushed its muzzle.

"Shadowmere," He sounded impressed.

Exhaling out of her nose in time with the horse, Lana took a step back and then over to the side of the beast. Her hand rested on his neck and the skin flinched with a fluidity that seemed to suggest vermin existed in place of muscle. Revulsion caused small tendrils of to carry up Lana's arm, but she dared not let Lucien see her flinch. Instead the Speaker offered her his hand and Lana lifted herself onto the animal. Legs lay across his back she started down at her lover who seemed pleased.

"Come back to me when it's done." An order and a wish, all in one.

Lana nodded to the affirmative then took off over the ground. The horse beat his hooves hard into the earth but absorbed most of the jolt. As he moved the creature released a smell, like soil recently disturbed. Instead of focusing on the nightmare between her legs Lana stared forward and focused on the task at hand. So much, so fast, and very little time to consider.

The Orc proved easiest. She'd lured him to the storage room, promising her body as reward, only to deliver her knife into his neck. Several family members fell in their sleep, well placed dagger strikes to the heart. With each slash of her blade Lana felt more and more bold, the blessing of Sithis once again enchanting her with a burning want.

Ecstasy coursed through her body, yet she remained unsatisfied. As Lana climbed through the shadows of her former home she looked quietly for the one person whose death would bring her the most satisfaction. Antoinetta Marie, the Breton bitch. Eventually a solitary candle lit a table in the training room, and blond locks swung to the side. Antoinetta read a book on the edge of shadow, her face twisted with laughter. Lana wanted this kill, she felt as if her knife became an extension of her body, and she poised herself on the edge of the sight.

"Why are you hiding over their sister?" Antoinetta's voice startled her. "Come out and sit beside me. I have the most ridiculous romance book, it makes me think of Lucien."

The surprise of hearing her lover's name made Lana sheath her knife and come to stand by the doomed colleague. In the blonde's hands rested a novelette with flowery writing and an illustration of two lovers kissing under an apple tree. Lana noticed Antoinetta's cheeks were rosy like an apple and the urge to jam a weapon into her face grew strong.

"You know Lucien and I went on an adventure a long time ago," Antoinetta laughed. "We searched for a treasure. Once we had it Lucien grabbed me up and kissed me. I believe he is taken with me and it's why he stays away."

Lana said nothing.

"I always wonder what would happen if we were alone again," she grinned wickedly.

"Nothing." Her smile spread across her face like a spider unfolding black legs.

"Why do you say that?" Antoinetta gave a cross look.

Flicking her knife free of the holster Lana drove the blade forward and into the girls back. She'd pierced the lungs and driven the air out. Antoinetta could no longer scream but would be in horrible pain. As the blond woman gasped for air, struggling away from her assassin Lana stood over her, grabbing the girl by her shirt.

When they were eye to eye Lana spat into Antionetta's face, "Because he fucks me, you simpering child."

"Good." Antoinetta gasped for air. "I'm glad he'll be destroyed then. I was going to warn him."

Unable to bare the dying woman's lies, Lana drove her head into the floor, using her hair to beat her face against the stone until she lay still. Satisfied she'd passed she lifted her up, twisted her neck around, then dropped her body onto the ground. For a second Lana fancied she could sense Lana's soul escaping her body, screaming towards Sithis, and a rewarding shutter filled her body.

* * *

><p>Everyone had been disposed of but the cat and the vampire. M'raaj-Dar and Vicente could smell blood, which meant Lana's easy kills were over. As she rounded the corner and crept towards the cat's room, Lana felt the hairs on her arm tingle.<p>

Glowing, the back room had been filled with a light spell. In the center of the room stood M'raaj-Dar, claws unsheathed.

"Come out now, you murdering bitch," M'raaj taunted. "I know you will come for me and when you do I mean to fight you."

As he finished his words the Kahjiit turned to investigate a noise from the corner. Taking her opportunity, Lana lunged from the doorway, towards him. The keen hearing of the cat-creature undid her surprise and he dodged her advance, leaving Lana to crash into the wall. Her shoulder aching, Lana managed to stand in time to feel fur and muscle come in contact with her body.

Twisting and turning on the ground, Lana settled on her back with the feline's incisor's inches from her nose. A laugh started from the belly of her foe and echoed outwards with rank breath.

"You always liked being under Khajiit, didn't you girl?"

Watching her struggle rather than respond M'raaj continued. "I've seen the marks on your shoulders when you bathe. Scars from fangs, a human who will fuck KhaJiit, perhaps you'd like it if I obliged you before I kill you in the name of Sithis."

Nauseous loathing spread through Lana's arms as she managed to gather the strength to shove the giant cat off her. His claws left a trail of blood as he moved away, curling up on back legs to lunge again. As he did this Lana placed her dagger in front and swung at the air - an empty arch through the bright room and then another. Each time M'raaj managed to slide out of the way of her strike. Finally he moved in to get another scratch and Lana used his proximity to drive the knife into his side.

With a roar of pain, the cat-kin pulled back and limped towards the corner.

"Bitch," he hissed and began to chant to set off a spell.

Retrieving her second dagger Lana worked her way into a corner, preparing for the fire spell he would surely launch. Once the flames extended from his fingers towards her, Lana rolled under it, jumping up at the last minute and driving the blade through his chin and into his brain. The Khajiit sputtered, sending a spray of blood with his breath and Lana withdrew her knife only to quickly slam it into his chest, ending him.

Out of breath and half expecting Vicente to attack her, Lana waited in the center of the room. She turned to watch the bespelled stone turn black, followed by another and another. When the room had but a single light spell she closed her eyes and listened for the breath of the undead.

Shaking her head she realized the futility of trying to hear a vampire breathe. A wretched laugh filled Lana's ears as she once again slid into shadow. "I suppose you've made a decision about my offer of immortality. Come. Come Lana. Let me show you death."

The gash across her mid section left by the cat-kin caused enough pain to prevent her from moving as swiftly as she had but soon enough she found herself on the edge of Vicente's room. Inside the vampire penned a letter with a great flourish of his hand, muttering to himself as he made his final composition.

"I suppose you are going to lunge at me from the doorway. You are able bodied enough to manage to kill me, I'll grant you that, but I have to wonder why. I have been loyal and true to the Night Mother, as have you. So why you are breaking the tenants and murdering your brother."

Lana stood in the shadow and watched, making no response.

"I've heard of a purge before," Vicente confessed. "I thought them rumors. Fairy stories told to keep members of the Brotherhood in line. Yet here I see the proof before my eyes. Tell me, Lana, what sin have we committed to warrant our deaths?"

Snarling, his fanged teeth exposed, Vicente grew tired of waiting for her response. He stood and faced away from Lana, looking at the wall. Extending his hands out to his side dramatically Vicente addressed the air around him. "This is not how I imagined centuries to end. Decades of hard work rewarded with swift death and yet I find myself welcoming it, if it's at your hand. Your silence testifies to your being a true child of Sithis. Yet head my words before you continue: The Brotherhood has made mistakes for which it will pay, and if what I have heard the others speak of is true, the day of reckoning is at hand. The Listener has appointed advisers in error and will pay."

With a shaking hand the vampire drove a smooth palm over his pony tail, only to close it over his heart once he finished. Pounding his chest he looked up at the ceiling, his voice cracking. "Strike."

Listlessly she swept in behind him to drove the wooden steak into his heart through his back. Instead of falling to the floor the body exploded into dust and scattered about the room. Lana returned the stake to her jacket and felt a lack of reward. "Rest well noble servant of Sithis."

Slow steps guided her body through the sanctuary. One hand kept the blood oozing from her midriff at bay. Closer to the door. Lana retrieved bandages and made a hasty job of binding her wounds over her clothes, before downing a bottle of healing potion she'd stashed here. The sick smell of death grew faint on the air and she felt the need to get away from the corpses of her former companions. Fleet of foot, she escaped to the surface to find the black horse waiting for her at the gate. Thinking of the carnage she'd left behind she felt her stomach churn and vomited on the ground. An unusual exhaustion carried her throughout the ride, leaving her arms weak and her victory hollow.

* * *

><p>The reward for her success had been a hot bath followed by the swift ministrations of an eager lover. For days they ate, slept, had sex and watched time pass. The freedom to be together proved liberating but soon a messenger from the Listener came to tell them good times were at an end. With work to be done Lucien had turned to her with quite despair in his eyes and informed her of how things would work.<p>

"I'm not allowed to give you orders directly." It sounded like an apology but she knew the job would keep them apart more often than not. "You'll go to a drop outside of town and retrieve a jar I place orders in. I will place them there on the second Wednesday following the completion of your tasks. In the time between feel free to make use of Fort Farragut."

A soft sigh came from her nose and she ran her fingers down his chin and across his lips. Closing his eyes he enjoyed the touch of her before she kissed him. "You'll need to spend the night somewhere else, I'm afraid."

Answering him with another kiss she collected her things as he busied himself with papers in the far corner. As she placed her foot on the stair up to the tree that hid the secret entrance, she looked over at Lucien and felt her heart lurch. Under the light of a burning candle he looked handsome and she drank it in, wanting to remember him like this before anything else. With a biting feeling something bad would happen soon she began her accent, pausing when she heard him call her name."

Silence whispered his words to her before he said them but when he did the reassurance felt nice. "I love you."

Her heart twisted in her chest and she felt ill for a moment. Words didn't pass for him to know how she felt but finally she calmed her stomach enough to open her mouth. "Ditto."

With no more words to pass between them she stepped out into the sunshine and felt it cruel that the day could be so beautiful when they had to be apart.


	6. Chapter 6

I thought this would be the last chapter, I was wrong. 1 more. Let me know what you think and encourage me to work on the last chapter. No beta, so pretty raw.

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><p>Shaking blood from her dagger, Lana stepped onto the porch of the Applewatch farm and took a bite out of a sweet roll. The old woman she'd killed had baked a fresh batch and with the rest of her family being murdered, she saw no need to waste good food. Four out of the six rolls were gone and Lana looked out onto the farm, feeling no hurry to flee, as the remote location would give her plenty of time before the body would be discovered.<p>

As she surveyed the growing crops she thought of her wish to have a home with Lucien. From here it was half a day walk to the city, they could live comfortably while hiding who they really were. In her heart she imagined children and crossed her arms over herself to push back the joy that rose up. Killers didn't settle in farmsteads and make time to tend crops and walk to town but the dream felt nice. Stepping inside the snatched the last two rolls and began walking towards the place she'd tied up her horse.

A short ride and she'd be with Lucien again, a tangled mess of arms and kisses. They relished the short time between contracts, before she had to go into town and give a day between them until she went to pick up her dead drop. The arrangement seemed cold and cruel in its own way but when she'd joined the Brotherhood she'd given up ordinary things. Serving Sithis and becoming part of The Void would be her reward.

When they met he sat at his desk for an hour tending to the tedium of his position. She tried to distract herself with a book, stealing glances at her handsome lover over the top of the pages. In these moments she lived in anticipation, every cell in her body in tune with the electricity of him. Shifting in his seat, running his fingers through his hair, licking his lips, dipping his pen in the inkwell, she felt all of these things as if she were doing them. Every action made by Lucien a prelude to his touch.

When at last his soft hands fell on her back she rolled into him. Like waves they churned up each other's sediment, mixing sand and fluids together as they fell together in a soft union of kisses. His lips were dry, her lips were moist, balancing each other as he heaved into her. No words. Nothing needed to be expressed except for air. That she had ever doubted him made her ill and she sometimes considered punishing her body for such a wicked thought.

Days later she emerged in the morning light, riding the horse into town and falling collapsed on the bed in the little house she'd been able to afford. One night she'd woken up with Lucien standing over her bed. He'd swopped down on her taken her swiftly before leaving to make the drop. Every time she lay down she looked at the ceiling and relived the hasty passion of it. The strong muscles in his shoulders played across her fingers, her mind recalling how they shifted as he moved against her, already knowing the rhythm that would send her over the edge and adhering to it until she lay spent and worn out.

Tonight she doubted she could do it, sheets alone feeling heavy on her body. Why riding a horse had exhausted her so much felt confusing and she rubbed her face to try to overcome it. Sleep soon caught up to her and she left her house later than she would have liked. The exhaustion followed, leaving her ready for a nap by the time she'd reached the drop.

Pulling the paper from the urn she sighed as she read the name, letting the clay vessel fall and smash to the floor. "Fucking Khajiit's."

The idea of killing a cat-kin both incited and annoyed her. Without thinking she rubbed the scars on her shoulder from her ex-lover's bite and pushed aside the resentment she'd developed for his gesture. Lifting herself back up on the horse, she straightened up and then felt a strange nausea move over her body. As if he could sense it, Shadowmere shifted underneath her, his skin jerking as if he were stuffed full of rats. Her revulsion at the creepy horse had been long overcome, so she patted him and tried to calm the animal.

"Easy, boy. Easy. It's going to be a long ride to Bruma and I'm going to need you to go easy on me, okay?"

A raspy neighing came from the beast as he began to trot forward at an easy pace. Lana's eyes rolled in her head and she wondered if she were growing sick. Perhaps she'd banish the horse and take a carrage part of the way so she could rest. As if he could read her mind the horse stumbled a little and jostled her back into reality. Annoyed, she pulled on his reigns, slowing him even more. If she went this slow there would be no seeing Lucien between this and the next contract. It wouldn't be the first time but she always tried to lessen the time apart.

* * *

><p>Rumor had it that J'Ghasta boxed in underground competitions. The lowly act of black market fighting made Lana feel emboldened to finish her contract. She served Sithis and The Night Mother, her acts of murder a holy tribute, prize fighters were thugs drawing blood with no appreciation for life. In her heart she knew life to be scared and took it with a zest that did the Dark God justice. The added excuse brought confidence and made her work easier despite the increasing need for sleep and food.<p>

She combined her disgust for the cat-kin with the annoyance that his distance would keep her from seeing her lover between contracts and used it to motivate her to get up in the middle of the night an sneak into his house. Inside J'Ghasta sat on the edge of his bed, unwrapping boxing tape from his paws. As she crept through the shadows she kept an eye on his ear, wincing when it twitched in her direction.

"I don't recall inviting anyone into my house."

Without saying a word she pulled her dagger and crept closer. Seeming to sense the danger J'Ghasta stood on his feet swiftly and turned around. A look of shock filled his features, confusing her as she dove forward and shoved the blade into his chest. The pleasure of the kill began to override her tiredness, piqued by an exhaled groan from her victim. "I'm a finger of…" his last words.

Standing over his body, she began to think his pattern familiar. Nervously she studied his face and realized she'd seen him before, months ago, speaking to Lucien after one of her kills. The word finger slapped her in the face as an uneasy realization filled her. Feeling anxiety and despair she began to search through his things, starting with a chest of drawers and then moving over to a trunk.

Inside the old chest she found a black hood and outfit like hers. The fabric gave off an oily sheen in the candle light she knew belonged to enchanted items. Brotherhood armor, no doubt. Had J'Ghasta been the name of Lucien's contact? Did he keep these clothes for needy members of the Brotherhood, serving another faction like the Thieves Guild? The possibilities made her skin crawl. In her heart she yelled out for her lover to come speak with her, let her know she'd done the right thing but she knew he'd want her to follow orders and get the next drop.

Uneasy, she stepped outside of the Khajiit's house and made her way to the inn. Her sleep came in spasm's, the look on J'Ghasta's eyes haunting her as she tried to rest. Twisting inside of her stomach brought her an uneasy pain and she cried out, wanting to rest but unable to find respite. Tired of laying down she moved to a basin and poured cool water on a rag, then pressed it to her face. Moving back to the bed she lay down and readjusted the cloth.

In this instant she remembered a song her father used to sing and began to hum it to herself. Feeling encouraged by the gesture she continued to hum, the twisting in her stomach calming. For a brief second she could remember the feeling of her mother's fingers running along her scalp, relaxing her into sleep. Before she drifted off she thought she heard insane laughter from the street and smelled Deathbells.

* * *

><p>The Lucky Old Lady still stood in Bravil, smiling down on her as her children danced about her feet. The statue still called to Lana but she didn't feel her blessing this time. A cold wind blew from across the clearing and smelled vaguely of rot and filled her with doubt. Closing her eyes she tried to expel the cloy must from her nostrils but found it lingered in her hair as she paced the city looking for her target.<p>

Ungolm had paid the guard to ignore a fight if she came for them. Because of this she walked boldly in the street, waiting for the Bosmer to reveal himself. As soon as she stepped away from the statue a whisking sound moved through the air towards her and an arrow landed near her ankle. A second passed before she realized what happened and rolled out of the way, another arrow flying and catching her arm just enough to slice the flesh open.

Cursing she found repast behind a rock, another arrow landing where her foot would have been. She couldn't be sure but it felt like Ungolm had been shooting to stop her, not kill. Excited by the fight, yet wanting it to be over quickly so she could rest, Lana crept around the rock and moved along the eve of a house. The streets stood barren and empty, the townsfolk having evacuated after warning her target, probably.

Moving up hill, she used the occasional ping of the bow to figure out where the archer had hidden. Finally she caught sight up him near a tree, pulling a bead on an old woman who had stepped out to gather her laundry. Good, he wasn't sure where she'd moved to. Relief swept Lana as she pulled a small knife and tried to gauge the window. Her hand lifted and the blade made contact in the Mer's eye, right as another body crashed into hers and flung her to the ground.

Struggling with her attacker she winced as he grabbed her sore arm and rolled on top of her. Looking up she caught the face of Lucien, staring back at her with a powerful rage. "What have you done? Why? Why would you betray me?"

Shock filled her entire body and tears streamed down her eyes. How could he say such a thing? Before she could ask she saw his anger melt and he scooped her up in his arms, kissing the crown of her head. "By Sithis, you didn't do it. I can tell by that look you had no idea. Oh Gods Lana. Gods. You killed the Listener and you had no idea."

Crying harder now she grabbed him tight, her brain unable to comprehend the situation. "Ungolm was the Listener? How? How could this be? The Night Mother wouldn't allow this?"

"Yes." The confession held a sadness in it she couldn't handle and her tears fell harder.

"I'm sorry."

"You killed J'Ghasta, a Speaker and one of my old friends. You'd met him before and I couldn't comprehend why you'd do it. Why you would say you loved me and then betray me. I know now, someone is interfering with the Dead Drops, someone is using you to hurt me and destroy the Dark Brotherhood. We have to find out why."

Movement to their right signaled that the guards were growing antsy and Ungolm's bribe wouldn't hold them off much longer. Helping Lana up, he pulled her close to him and together they moved towards the Inn. Buying a room the settled in on the bed without any of the passion they'd held previously, instead they clung to each other as if the world would fall apart if one let go.

Laying on top of the sheets, she stirred from the comforting nook of his arm and looked in his sad brown eyes. "Why?"

"I don't know."

Despair, something she hadn't imagined ever seeing in him. The Brotherhood had become their family and loss unavoidable but if she had to guess she'd say the higher-ups like her lover took comfort in their less riskier position. As she began to lean against him darkness threatened to overtake her, the image of the Lucky Old Lady holding in her mind, inviting her to enjoy the stillness of sleep.

"Tomorrow you'll go to the drop." Lucien's decision stirred her from rest. Nodding her head she listened as he worked out his plan, wanting to sleep more than she wanted to discuss this right now. "You have to act like nothing happened but get to the Dead Drop early. Catch the person delivering it and find out who is behind this."

Hoping to calm him into sleep she lifted herself up and placed a kiss on his temple. The skin there felt soft and loose and she enjoyed the feeling. "We'll go in the morning."

"No, you need to do it alone."

Trying not to feel hurt she looked up at him. His eyes met hers with determination and she knew she shouldn't argue. Rubbing her hands on his stomach she could feel him relax under her touch. "I want to go with you, but we can't startle this guy away. Plus, I have my own leads to follow up. We'll meet in two days time at the place where you finished your kill on the family. I know you'd wanted a house for us so I cleaned it up as a surprise. I'm sorry to tell you like this."

Managing a chuckle, she smiled as he laced her fingers into hers, stilling her hand. "We can still live there."

His turn to chuckle. "I know. I wanted to tell you under better circumstances. We'll always have Fort Farragut but I want to watch you sleep as the silver moonlight plays through your fiery hair."

"To bad it's a new moon tonight."

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Words of love exchanged, she'd parted from Lucien early in the morning. Leaving him hurt more than she'd like, the entire thing punctuated by the ache she felt in her body from the lack of sleep. She'd beat the traitor to the Dead Drop by several hours and lay in the warm grass near the sun. From her sheath she took the dagger Lucien had given her when she first joined the Brotherhood. The black handle had a strange inlay she'd yet to see on another dagger.

Her distraction paid off when the sound of feet filled her ears. From her hiding position she watched as a small man placed a familiar looking jar near a shrub. Turning to see if anyone had noticed him she stood and moved up behind him so when his head turned she suddenly came into view. As predicted the man jumped and she used his alarm to trip him.

With the unsheathed blade she'd been given for her first kill, she threatened the man, who rolled beneath her and simpered. "Who are you and why have you been giving me orders to kill the wrong people?"

"Mara preserve, you're with the Dark Brotherhood. I knew this guy paid to well to be on the up and up."

"You're not the one tampering with the jars?"

"No, I swear." The truth smelled of piss and fear.

"If you didn't do it, who did?"

"The man in the Anvil lighthouse. He pays me to do it. I would never knowingly interfere with the Dark Brotherhood. Oh Gods, please let me leave."

Blinking at the man beneath her Lana debated what to do next. Of course the traitor would be clever. For a moment she debated if she should kill the courier or let him go. His simpering assured her he'd be afraid to ever reveal her description to another but on the other hand her family were already in danger enough.

Using her legs to pin the struggling man, she raised her blade. "For Sithis." The steel slid in as if it wanted to kill and the body beneath her grew stiller. Blood trickled out of the corner of her mouth as she lifted up to stab again, puncturing his corpse with every driven moment of eroticism and tension she could muster. Exhausted, she slumped down on the body, letting the blood cling to her clothes.

For a moment she imagined sleeping like this, sucking the warmth from the corpse until it grew to cold and stiff to be comfortable. At the same moment the urgency in Lucien's words filled her brain and she pulled her body up slowly. Muscles feeling as if they were made of angry putty, she swept her hand and summoned her horse. The black steed appeared from his pool of tar and darkness, whinnying at her sight.

Quickly they rode along the edge of Anvil, to the lighthouse. Using a lock pick she'd bought off a thief she unlocked the first floor of the place, moving around a clean home, to cheery and open to hide anything dark. Frustrated she crept downwards, walking around the parameter looking for anything that would give her a clue what to do next.

In frustration she kicked a rock, which flew through the air and landed against a pair of wood doors. Curious, she moved towards the cellar entrance, noticing a worn path in the grass leading to the paved road. Leaning down she picked the lock, pulling back the cellar door, releasing a torrent of flies. Next a bad smell forced its way up from the bellowing hell below, hitting her in the face and forcing the contents of her stomach out onto the ground.

Every time she came near the hole, the vomiting resumed. The smell seemed more potent and sickening than she should be but the need to help Lucien drove her to attempt again. Standing on the edge of the doors she braced herself and tried to take a step, the odor once again reaching her nose making her ill. By now she'd attracted the attention of the lighthouse keeper and a female Mer, who both ran to her aide.

"What's wrong miss?" The old Nord asked before his nose turned up and he faced the Mer.

The night elf lifted Lana and moved her away from her sick and the cellar doors. The woman rubbed her back, helping with the convulsing and saying some kind of magic chant. Feeling relieved she looked up at the dark skinned elf with a look of thanks, bringing a smile from her purple hued lips.

"This isn't a safe place for a pregnant woman."

The words hit Lana with the same pain and precision Lucien had when he thought she'd conspired against the Listener. "I'm not pregnant."

This amused the Mer. "My magic never lies. You're nose is working better because of the baby. I suspect you've been tired and sluggish as well. You really should rest more, it will only get rougher from here."

"I'm pregnant," she repeated. In her heart she knew the truth of it. "I still have to go down there."

"No one needs to go down there," The Nord interjected. "I knew I shouldn't have rented the room to that hooded freak. It looks like he's slaughtered half the animals in Anvil and left them to rot. I'm going to go get the magistrate and sort this out."

"No you won't." Both the dark elf and the Nord stared at her curiously. "It's business."

"What business would make someone want to go down in that hell hole."

"The Dark Brotherhood's."

Neither said anything. The Mer stood slowly, letting Lana catch her footing and joining the Nord at his side. "That spell should fortify you for the next thirty minutes, if you're serious about going down there."

The couple's revulsion at her confession failed to draw anything from her but contempt. Looking down at the hole, she could hear the crawling of insects and smell the rank odor of death. Turning back to look at the Nord, he shrugged. "Don't want no trouble anyways. Get what you need and get out. I'll pay someone to keep my secret once you're good and gone."

Satisfied with his vow of silence, she stepped down into the darkness, allowing time for her eyes to adjust. In the corner she heard the growling of a dog. Certain this couldn't be a good sign, she drew her dagger and sunk it into the animal's forehead as soon as it moved towards her. The creature seemed emaciated, with pieces of its skin missing from the sides.

All around her stacked piles of rotted meat and bones. The insects she heard, moved within remains as if they were waves on a shore. Frustrated by the strangeness of it she moved to the back, stopping at a table with a mummified head on it and a plaque beneath it saying, "Mother."

Next to the head sat a journal of leather made from questionable skin. With an unsure hand Lana grabbed the book and turned through the pages, reading the ramblings of a mad man. It seemed as a boy the man's Mother had been killed by Lucien and he had joined the Dark Brotherhood on a quest for revenge. Most disturbing were the pages about how he'd turned Lucien's Silencer and lover against him. Plenty of pages were dedicated to how he'd convince her to betray her lover, claiming her as his prize in a long played revenge scenario.

Placing the journal in her bag, Lana fought back more of her sickness and ran towards the steps. In the open she gasped for the clean air, trying to expel the horrible stench from her nostrils. Waving her hand she summoned Shadowmere and rode off towards Applewatch, in hope's she'd intercept Lucien before the revenged maddened murderer did.


	7. Chapter 7

Any other horse would have broken his leg or fallen from exhaustion but Shadowmere seemed as possessed to reach his master as Lana. The black steed seemed to morph around her in the darkness, the usual churning monstrosity of flesh and hair conformed to her body. Occasionally she'd feel the scurry of vermin moving across her leg, but found nothing when she turned to examine.

For a few moments she thought she'd loser the reigns, fall to the ground and die before she'd reach Lucien. When this happened the horse would shift and almost caress her, as if he needed her to survive this. Finally the cabin came into view, the lights in the window sparkling in the darkest night. With her heart in her throat she rounded the edge of the property and approached towards a lean-to where she could hide Shadowmere from the road.

The sliver of moonlight made the strange horses visible only once she'd cleared the side of Applewatch. The steeds were still wearing expensive saddles, dark and muted so as not to gather attention. Panic filled her body; she knew this had to be the surviving members of the Black Hand. Sliding off Shadowmere, her feet made contact with the gravel and her knees threatened to give out. Once she'd regained her balance she jumped onto the porch, moving through a fog of fear and anxiety.

The door swung open and black figures parted, turning to reveal a corpse hanging from the ceiling, the skin stripped from his body. The sight crippled her, making Lana to the ground in horror. Nothing in the fetid basement could compare to seeing her lover dangling from a meat hook like a deer. Even the worst murder she participated in never came close to strangling her heart the way this did. Doubt about whose body it was flicked through her mind only briefly, she knew him to well, every inch irrevocably transcribed into her brain. There would never be another Lucien, she would never be happy again.

"Silencer." A tall Altmer stood out from the group, her golden skin shining under her cloak. "I am glad you have made it. I am Arquen and while we have not met I am sure you as glad to see me, as I am you. At last Lucien's LaChance's lies have been revealed and he has been punished. No longer will your hand be used in error."

No words escaped Lana's mouth, just a strangled breath full of misery and befuddlement. On her hands and knee's she crept towards the corpse, one of the men in black speaking words only she could hear. "Like an unholy vision of beauty, she greaves."

Ignoring him, she continued to creep, until her hands rested on Lucien's bloodied cheeks. Shaking, she leaned in and planted a final kiss on his stripped lips, his blood soaking into her own. Blinded by her tears, she brushed the side of her face against his and whispered: "If only I were faster. I'm sorry my love, I'm sorry. Our child will never know you and it breaks my heart."

A hand rested on her shoulder and she turned to see a Breton staring down at her. Sympathy played across his face as he helped her up, pulling her close as she continued to mourn. "He played us all child. I know this has to be hard; he used your heart as well as your body. Trust there is a reason for all of this."

"Mathieu, steady her as we ride to Bravil." Arquen's lack of compassion made Lana grow bitter towards the Mer.

"Let me clean the blood from her face first," Mathieu said. "We will raise enough eyebrows riding into town this time of night, best we don't garner more attention from a woman with a bloody face."

"Very well. Tend to her as you see fit but we need to leave shortly. I want to open the Night Mother's tomb under darkest shadow."

With these words, three members of the black hand stepped outside, leaving them alone with the corpse of Lucien. Unaffected by the grim sight, Mathieu walked to a water basin and dipped a handkerchief he produced from his pocket. The dainty lace on it seemed more fitting to a woman, striking Lana as peculiar but the detail soon drowned out as her attention once again turned to her lover's body.

The tears had dried up when she realized what fools the rest of the Black Hand were. One amongst them would prove to be traitor, but she couldn't determine who just yet. Stiffening herself, she clinched her stomach and fought to control the spasms that shook her frame. No time to cry or be ill. She used the oozing stab wounds of her beloved's body to strengthen her resolve to destroy the man who did this.

When Mathieu rejoined her, touching the cold water to her wind chapped face, she continued to stare at the corpse, fire burning in her eyes. Her stern glare drew the Speaker's attention and he followed her eyes to see what kept her so raptly alert. "Truly a thing of beauty. The ripped flesh, the random pattern of stab wounds, it speaks to you doesn't it? Death holds such cruel majesty, I am glad you see it as well."

Turning away, Lana twitched her nose and tried not to show that Mathieu tipped his hand. The passage in the journal about claiming her for his gave his actions away. Mathieu's ministrations, the kind gestures of a concerned brother, would bond him to her if she weren't suspicious. How noble he seemed, cleaning her face, running the cool cloth under her puffy eyes, politely ignoring the cracks in her lips from the cold night air.

Thankfully in his agonizing death, Lucien hadn't betrayed her. He'd kept the secret of her searching the Anvil LightHhouse to spare her from a similar fate. Emotion threatened to come to the forefront, but Lana squelched it, least she take his gift for granted. Closing her eyes she inhaled and settled her mind, noticing a familiar scent coming from the traitor.

"Your cologne is unusual," she remarked. Opening her eyes slowly she noticed how her words brought a boyish smile from Mathieu.

"I'm glad you noticed. I spent quite a bit on it."

"It smells like Lucien's." A frown spread across the man's face and she let it sit for a moment. Good that he should feel uneasy. Let him wonder what she knew. Fuck him that he'd sought out the perfumer that provided a smell her partner had specially made for himself. Still, she needed him to betray his treachery to the fools outside, least she and her child perish.

"A common scent I'm sure. Perhaps the shock of tonight has left me sensitive. Females are sentimental creatures, after all. Your kindness means so much, Brother. I will not forget it."

Confidence grew within him at the belief she had fallen for his trick. Mathieu helped her up from her seat and lead her outside to his horse. Dismissing Shadowmere under Arquen's orders, she flinched when she felt the real monster climb up behind her and wrap his arms around her body. "Please lean against me Silencer. It is obvious you're exhausted from your riding. Consider me a pillar on which you may depend."

Smooth. Following his suggestion she leaned back against the Breton's chest, letting the smell of his cologne relax her. She needed as much rest as she could. A murder would happen soon. Mathieu would pay and she would stand justified before the other fools. How these people had risen to such important positions made Lana wonder if the Dark Brotherhood had reached its peak long before she joined.

* * *

><p>Standing at the base of The Lucky Lady, Lana laughed that favorite statue represented the woman she'd spent her time in servitude of. In her heart she formed a poem to the night mother, and bore it though her nose on the edge of the wind, least ungrateful ears hear her reverence.<p>

_Oh Night Mother,_

_Bless you for the things you have brought to me_

_And damn you for the things you have taken away._

_I pray someday I will reunite with my heart,_

_In Sithis' cold center._

_Grant me justice_

_And I shall grant you souls._

The group began a low prayer lead by Arquen. This whispered chant quickly increased in pitch, causing the statue shifted backwards, revealing steps. Carefully Lana followed the group of murderers, her mind focused on how these final moments would play out.

At the bottom of the crypt stood a series of carve pillars, with a dais in the center along the south wall. At the top of this wall sat a sarcophagus of thick metal, with intricate carvings on it. Before the tomb stood an alter with the bodies of five infants on it. Each infant had long ago rotted too bones, cracks coming from thick dents in their skulls.

Taken by the idea of destroying her children in honor of Sithis, Lana felt a terrible shiver move up in her spine. Her fingers tingled at the thought of holding something so soft and defenseless in her hands only to dash it on the stones. The sensation felt like an orgasm but more intense and terrible than anything a man had ever given her. With her hands twisted like claws she moved towards the tomb and fell in reverence, the lips that had kissed Lucien's dead face now kissing the bottom of the sarcophagus that held the Night Mother.

"My dear, I will need you to stand back."

Following Arquen's orders, Lana listened to another chant, her eyes fixated on Mathieu, who crept closer and closer to the sarcophagus, excited by the prospect of his revenge soon to come. Once Arquen had finished her benediction, the doors to the tomb pulled open, and dust billowed out and rolled into the room like an unsteadying myst. The smell of deathbells filled the air, causing Lana to tear up, before the dried corpse of the Night Mother came into sight.

Disappointed to find only a shriveled body, Lana positioned her hand over her dagger and drew a bead on Mathieu - who had stepped back to stand with the other Speakers. A flicker of light came from the open doors and the Night Mother began to glow. Soon another figure materialized and walked away from the others, leaving the corpse behind. Transparent and impressive, the ghostly image hovered over her, cupping Lana's face.

"Lucien died serving Sithis, my child. He rests with the Dread Lord, worry not. Unfortunately the fools around you will not know the void, unless my husband's betrayer is slaughtered soon."

Stepping aside, the Night Mother turned to look at Mathieu, who returned her glare before pulling his knife and thrusting it into one Speakers neck. Before anyone could react, he kicked the body from his blade and finished the other man with his knife. Pulling another blade from his belt, he moved towards the corpse of the Night Mother. "Mommy, I will have my revenge!"

Half expecting this, Lana grasped her knife and sent it flying into Mathieu's back. The traitor stumbled backwards, turning to look at her with wild eyes. "For Lucien," she whispered. With hatred in his gaze the cretin lifted his dagger as if he would return the insult, when a fireball from Arquen extinguished his life.

The simplicity of Mathieu's death left Lana feeling empty. Years of cunning and betrayal left her alone and pregnant, with an organization of killers to rebuild. Arquen stepped forward to speak with the Night Mother, the response being a series of condemnations that Lana largely ignored. That a man like Mathieu Bellamont could walk among the ranks of her family undetected, spoke to horrible incompetency.

When the Night Mother finished berating Arquen for her foolishness she once again turned to Lana, who silently lifted her chin in acknowledgement. A spectral hand landed on her stomach and Lanna gasped for breath as cold shot through her body. A smile spread across the Dread Lady's face, jagged and wild like a saber tooth cat.

"Not this one, Lana Sullivan. Any children you have after him, dash them against the rocks, or keep them, it doesn't matter. But not the child of Lucien LaChance. Sithis saw you generations ago, saw the offspring that will result from your union. The Dark Lord has need of you and your child Lana, so cry no more. Come, be my Listener and fix the Dark Brotherhood for the better."

Nodding yes, brought the predatory smile to the face of the spirit. Gracefully the Night Mother turned and climbed the dais to her tomb, her skirts flickering blue and green reflections on the wall as she moved. Standing before the corpse that held her in life, the woman nodded. "Then it let be. Our future rests in your hands, my child. Prove your worth and save us from your predecessor's decay."

Not needing a response, the Dread Matron dissipated into the air. The room grew darker with her leaving and the torches flickered as the doors to her Sarcophagus slammed shut. Lana's fingers ran along her hip and caressed her stomach where she'd been touched. A cough brought her gaze up from contemplation and she beheld Arquen waiting for orders.

"Listener." The Mer placed her hand at her chest and bowed.

"Fool," Lana responded. "Get out of my sight. Restart the sanctuary in Cheydinhal l while I look for Speakers to replace the dead. Have no contact with me unless I send for you. Your years in the job and the Night Mother's mercy are the only reasons you still draw breath."

Gathering her cloak, Arquen said nothing as she hurried out of the tomb, leaving Lana alone. Listening to make sure no one would return, she crossed the room and sat at the base of the alter. Picking up the bone of a child, she twirled it between her fingers before reaching overhead and setting it down on the stonework. Glancing at the glyphs surrounding her, Lana's mind reeled with everything that happened, before covering her face with her hands to prevent crying. As one final tear fell for Lucien she felt comforting fingers to sweep through her hair - her true mother to assure her things would be fine.

* * *

><p><em>So that's it. On to my Skyrim fic. I hope you liked it. Leave me a comment please, it encourages me to keep going.<em>


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